On a farm up a mountain there once was a barn
With a rusty tin roof, built of stone
Where something most evil was lurking inside
Making the kids in the village all whimper and moan
What on earth do you think is behind yon big door?
Wee Brendan inquired with dread
Our stomachs all churned as we tried to describe
Gruesome beasts running wild in our head
Not one word of a warning was written up there
But in our minds it was so deadly clear
The terrible movements we head from within
Spelt F E A R (that says fear)
Not a soul in the glen could tell what it was
That rattled and roared in that shed
If it got out it would bite and scare us to hell
Break our bones and leave us quite dead
Long feared by the folk down in old Cushendall
Was the Bodach, the Pooka and Banshee
But would ever they choose to come and scare us
With faeries, wee men and mythology?
I’m praying to Jaysis it’s not that Godzilla
A werewolf or dead zombie man
Poor Margaret’s young voice shook as she said
Or Aunt Concepta from Ballyhornan
The way that it grunts and bangs all around
It sounds angry, possessed and quite crazy
Bernie’s face turned to white as she quivered and gasped
What if it’s yer man Ian Paisley?
On a ship Uncle Dan sailed nine times round the world
He’d met Greeks, Japanese and Armenians
And one evening in Duffy’s Lounge Bar there in Larne
He’d drunk stout and poitín with Presbyterians
He saw a goat in Bushmills born with two heads
Four noses and teeth for eye sockets
But it couldn’t have come on the bus to Glendun
It wouldn’t see to find the fare in its pockets?
All night he’d tell tales of the queerest of things
The extent of his yarns had no limit
So with a bit of a notion of how our monster looked
He could tell what it was and then kill it
He’d seen whales and great sharks and porpoises too
Giraffes, giant snakes and wild sheep
With a need to describe our fiend at the door
One of us had to take a wee peep
To proceed with the plan a volunteer was picked out
Someone big and quite bold and not sickly
Liam’s daddy had bought a new Ford motor car
So he could get Liam to the hospital quickly
Intrepid young Liam was pushed rather close
To peer in the abyss through a crack
I’ve a terrible feeling I’ve just weed my pants
He cried out very loud running back
A fearsome ogre he saw, all ugly and fat
With face filthy, coarse, rough and hairy
And from the gut-churning stink you'd just about think
It was the teacher from school, Master Clary
We wanted to show it who was the boss
That huge awful thing needed poking
We'd get a big stick and prod it real hard
I thought the girl who said that must be joking
For a few anxious minutes we searched all around
‘Til Sinéad found a long length of wood
She chose the right hole and carefully took aim
We stood there, bodies trembling, fearing blood
She pushed the sharp pole right into the dark
Then came a loud crash, howl and roar
Followed by banging, some groans, a succession of grunts
As the brute tried to smash down the door
I've weed my pants once again, and also my socks
Liam’s voice was damp, wretched and flat
Then our mood changed from fear to utter distress
Seeing a man with a gun and big hat
He shouted some words that we’d never heard
We sensed he might do us great harm
Down the barracks he’d go to tell Sergeant Keane
If we didn’t fuck off from his farm
He said from his boot we’d get a kick up the arse
He’d tell our mammies and also the priest
We’d no business round here, trespassing his land
We should leave his poor old cow in peace
We ran almost as fast as Liam’s da’s car
Twice as fast as the farmer could run
The man with the gun was old James MacGuigan
Out shooting rabbits and weans just for fun
But at least then we knew, the word had got out
It was nothing like what we had guessed
Neither devil nor demon, just a decrepit sad cow
We’d survived and accomplished our quest
If ever in life you’ve a mystery to solve
Mark these words that I say here and now
No matter how brave you think you behave
Never poke a curmudgeon or cow
My brave friends and I whilst only quite young
Learned to leave things alone, not explore
To stay well away from all things that growl
And scare you stiff from behind a locked door
Except for the bits that are things I’ve made up
Every word of this poem’s quite true
And to keep James MacGuigan from breaking my door
I’ve changed some names and forgotten a few
