I think that you all may have heard of our poet and playwright Brendan Behan. Unfortunately he died just recently and he spent a long time in prisoner. Mostly for anti-British activities. But he once spent a while in a great prison in Dublin, that overlooks the Royal Can*l. Now they say in Dublin that the smell of the Royal Can*l is one of the sights of Dublin City but on a summer evening, if you're passing by with the car windows closed, you see the children swimming in there and the swans going up and down. And the seagulls, always seagulls, ovеrhead. And there's a grеat wall that rises over it and that is the wall of Kilmainham Prison. And in the enclosure, all that the prisoners can see on their recess - their only contact with freedom is the sight of those seagulls drifting in over the wall
So Behan, sitting in a cell one day, wrote this little song called The Old Triangle or the banks of the Royal Can*l
{Verse 1}
A hungry feeling came o'er me stealing
And the mice were squealing in my prison cell
And that old triangle
Went jingle jangle
Along the banks of the Royal Can*l
{Verse 2}
To begin the morning
The warder bawling
Get out of bed and clean up your cell
And that old triangle
Went jingle jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Can*l
{Verse 3}
On a fine spring evening
The lag lay dreaming
The seagulls wheeling high above the wall
And the old triangle
Went jingle jangle
Along the banks of the Royal Can*l
{Verse 4}
The day was dying
And the wind was sighing
As I lay crying in my prison cell
And the old triangle
Went jingle jangle
Along the banks of the Royal Can*l
{Verse 5}
In the female prison
There are seventy women
I wish it was with them that I did dwell
Then that old triangle
Could jingle jangle
Along the banks of the Royal Can*l
You have very good taste, I must say