Trolley Ride To Nowhere

Trolley Ride to Nowhere

The Minister, the HSE, They’re just about solution-free — “Please wash your hands, don’t touch off me, There’s common sense around”. The Minister he’s young, he’s wet, The Trolleys have him almost beat, But he’ll not resign, won’t give in yet, Unless he gets the Flu.

“You have it right, we’ll not refute, It’s nurses that we must recruit, We’ll offer buttons and new suits If they’ll come back to stay. We’ll get them back from far Kuwait Where they’re buying perfume by the crate The place is crap, the pay is great, Though they miss their families”.

They closed the wards, they closed the beds They stacked them in ER instead And someone’s dying, someone’s dead — Now where’s the dignity? The problem is, I hear them shout There’s one door in, and no way out, They’re certain, yet, they’re full of doubt, That’s what the young nurse said.

She slaves, and there’s no give or take, She’s worked eight hours, without a break She’s begging them, “For Jesus sake! Please sort this mess for me! I can wrap the wound, the sore, Give them comfort and much more, Just stop ’em coming through the door, And give them dignity”.

The drunk they’re treating in the bed, A bleeding nose, an aching head, He’s got two nurses round his bed And three security. And Mrs. Burke at eighty-nine Upon that trolley she is lying, Her smile’s the distance of the dying, I hope she makes it through.

The left hand and the right hand met, They haven’t got to grips just yet, I guess they’ll never make a fit, Not in the HSE. And young doctors never get to bed They’re popping pills to square the head, And someone’s dying, someone’s dead, They never got to see.

— © Frank Callery, January, 2017