How My Mother Gave Up Drinking Gin
Christmas eve of Fifty-Seven my mother gave up drinking gin.
She kicked me out into the snow and wouldn't let me in.
"Freeze your pagan keister Mister Joseph Green
You can stay outside till Easter making fun of Bishop Sheen!"
She was drinking Christmas cocktails with my Uncle Joe
Who had drunk up all the whiskey. He denied it but I know.
They had run flat out of vermouth and you know just what that yields:
The telling of the Awful Truth while smoking Chesterfields.
Uncle Joe confessed to Mama and told her he was gay.
My Mama said "Oh, no you're not and what an Awful Thing to say."
I was watching TV and said "Look there Uncle Joe!
He acts just like you do sometimes!" Joe just said "I know."
I pounded on the door and wept "Oh, mama I will freeze!"
Then slipped and fell on the front porch steps and fell down to my knees.
I raved and begged and then I prayed. Then gave a little shout.
When a gentle voice behind me said "Now, what's this all about?"
And I heard celestial music and peered into the night.
Oh, it was the Virgin Mary all dressed in blue and white!
Yes, it was the Virgin Mary! Ask me how I know.
She looked like a Maid of Derry but had a snake beneath her toe!
And there inside a pink cloud was a merry angel choir
And kind of to the left were all the martyrs in a fire
And then there were the patriarchs and little Johnny Doan
Who was baptized by my Mama when they left him all alone.
Whose parents thought he died last year a Baptist to the last
But was re-baptized by my Mama and so went to heaven fast
With all the other Catholics. She saved him from the Hell
Of the awful Baptist heaven. He was happy I could tell!
For there was St. John Boscoe and St. Sebastian too!
But Johnny didn't answer when I shouted "How are you?
I'm freezing here. Help me out!" But I couldn't see him through the swarm
Of Catholic saints all wanting to... just keep him safe and warm.
"Oh help me Blessed Mother. There's no room at the Inn
For my mother and my Uncle Joe are inside drinking gin!"
But... yes it was St Patrick! And he said "No, lad she ain't
I know your Uncle Joe's a homo but your mother is a saint!"
Saint Pat raised up his crozier and cried "Erin go Bragh!"
And Mama was so embarrassed as instantly she saw
All the saints and angels and the Blessed Mother too
Float into our living room. What else could she do?
"O, Lord I am not worthy! Oh, help me in my sin!
For it's the eve of Christmas and I sit here drinking gin
For Joe drank up the whiskey and I fear there's none around
And I have no drink to give you." There was hardly any sound
Till the Blessed Virgin Mary said with her charming Irish lilt:
"Ah, there's no need to worry. I absolve you of your guilt.
For we have good Irish whiskey-- the finest you have seen.
Ego te absolvo! Where's the glasses Mrs. Green?
And turn off that damn homo. We'll have no more of sin.
Turn on Perry Como and let the Sacred in!
Just turn on Perry Como and let the Sacred in!"
Uncle Joe was quite offended at that awful "homo" slur
But, of course, he just pretended for he knew just who they were.
And he joined the Host of Heaven as they danced a jig aerobic.
They were Irish and were Catholic and so, of course, quite homophobic!
Then suddenly all rested and beamed with angel joy
As good old Perry Como sang "The Little Drummer Boy."
"Thank God for the Irish," the Blessed Mother said
And I crept up into my room to read James Joyce: "The Dead."
And put my special music on and watched the general snow
And wondered what was going on and danced a slow tango