The Gun
By Sarah Higgins, 5th Year
The Gun
From Libya to Belfast
The Guns came on a boat,
The now decommissioned weapon,
Was then ready to load.
Its black and heavy barrel,
Its tiny trigger cold,
So easy to pull
And end a life,
That wasn’t ready to die.
Gadhafi over in Libya,
Cahill over there too.
He sympathised with the cause,
He ‘donated’ guns and all,
A surface-to-air missile launcher,
A rocket propelled grenade,
Sent over on the Claudia.
Cahill was so proud,
Of striking up this deal,
‘Sure how could it go wrong?’
Wrong it went,
Wrong it went so badly,
The ship under surveillance,
They had no idea it was going on.
5 tonnes of worrisome weapons,
Never did make it to our
Shore.
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