DUBLIN, IRELAND - Jim Browe above in Lacken
Had a virile puckan goat
On his prowess , 'mid the bracken
There was every right to gloat.
The she-goats of the nation
He's see they'd have a ball;
For a small remuneration
From their owners one and all.

Like wildfire round the mountain
His reputation spread,
And nanny-goats past countin'
With binder-twine were led
The puck could fairly rise 'er
(He serviced great and small)
Like a P.R.O. for Pfizer
He pranced around his stall.

His prowess was discussed with pash,
Among the Wicklow hills.
In places like Donard And Clash
(Well known for trills and spills)
When the media came to tape him
He was at their beck an' call.
And youths aspired to ape him
In every Parish Hall.

Some neighbour-no doubt jealous
Told an agent of the State,
Who with pen and clipboard, zealous,
Arrived at Jim's front gate.
"An illicit stud's reported,
I must check out the call".
"I'm guilty" Jim retorted
"My back's against the wall".

The puck went through exacting tests
With techniques old and new,
And passed them all (despite their jests)
And with flying colours too.
He was registered in Dublin
As a stud could now walk tall:
With his new found status troublin'
The ones who hoped he'd fall

Now trading with impunity
Jim Browe could plainly see
A golden opportunity
To double up the fee.
The goat-house he had slated
With fluorescent light an' all
And the price (in Euros) stated
On an ornamental spall.

Soon came an old reliable
With goat, and readies too.
The new regime seemed viable
But wait 'till I tell you;
The Puck decided he'd relax
And languised in his stall
While a licence stamped with sealing-wax
Hung framed upon the wall.

As more clients at the junction
Queued now with some chagrin
Erectile (goat) dysfunction
Appeared to have set in.
They coaxed him by being placid,
Then began to roar and bawl,
But the puck remained quite flaccid;
He wouldn't rise at all.

Said Jim "My little earner
Has turned out a farce"
As growing ever sterner
He aimed a kick in t' arse.
The puck glanced sideways, nervous,
At the parchment on the wall.
"Now I'm in the Civil Service
I'm supposed to do fuck-all".