Jordie Takes Hostagesby John McMenamin Patrick took his family
For a run out in the car
He said, “We’ll call on Jordie Tuft
His cottage isn’t far”. Old Jordie, made them welcome
The Countryman, looked sly
Come step into my parlour
Said the spider, to the fly. Old Jordie, locked and barred the door
Dressed in a thorn-proof suit
Then old Jordie held them hostage
Like Brian Keenan—in Beirut. Please let us out, cried Patrick
His face was scared and red
Old Jordie, said, “I want your wife
To dung out my auld bed”. “Don’t step outside boy” Jordie said
Cause Tiny’s in the yard
He’ll grab you boy, by the, you know what
And bite you boy, damned hard”. A SWAT team, from the PSNI
Are called out in great haste
They point their rifles at the cottage
Balaclavas – hide their face. “Get back yeh boy”, yells Jordie
Using words that were quite rude
“I’ve got weapons of mass destruction, boy
And they’re filled with, Jeyes Fluid”. The police pull on their gas-masks
Behind the auld turf stack
It’s like a scene from Desert Storm
Away out there—in Iraq. But soon the siege is over
And no ones lying dead
Cause poor Patrick, payed the ransom
--Jordie, got a-dunged out bed.
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