Welcome to Sinead Hamill’s Blog.

Sinead retains copyright on all her original material.

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I wake up in the morning

Thinking ‘I must look twenty one’

But then look into the mirror

And say ‘who the f**k’s yer one?


The crows are non-stop flying

All around the place

The poor birds can’t land anywhere

Cos’ their feet are on my face!


Then you have the ‘Ronnie’

The odd stubborn poxy hair

While  putting on your lipstick

You say ‘how the f**k did that get there?


I’ve creams for that

And wax for this

The pelvic floor is wrecked

I’m leaking  ….  (water)


I’d try post-natal yoga

But my kids are twenty three

Nine months in my belly

That now hangs down to my knee

I’d like to think its gravity

That’s the logic in my head

But it’s the weight of fecking cellulite

That’s diving south instead


It’s not fair that the blokes grow old

with signs of aging much more sparse

Apart from sagging bum cheeks

That they used to call an arse


But then again, they have the prostate

Ah sure, the poor oul little loves

They’re afraid to pick the post up

If you’re wearing rubber gloves.


So I suppose we best accept it

Though ageing doesn’t make us happy

And look out for “2 for 1” on pampers

In case we wind up back in nappies


Sinead Hamill – writeforme.ie

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Sometimes in your life, you’re feeling lazy.

When the day has taken everything you have.

To try to make the stress a little lighter,

You reach forward and switch on the old SatNav.

I realised my SatNav was a tranny

Once a bloke who won’t admit that he is lost

But bugger me, they made her quite impatient,

On my journey here she started to get cross.

Commence your trip’ was her initial order,

Was she assuming I was just about to fall?

She’s seen me pissed and laid out on the back seat,

So full of wine I couldn’t drive at all.

‘In 400 yards there will be a roundabout’

But there isn’t ‘cos the council dug it out.

She says to go and take the second exit

So now I know my SatNav’s full of shite.

She sends me up the ramp to the M50,

And reminds me not to speed above the tonne,

I want to push my new car to its limit but

I’m driving with Miss Daisy, she’s no fun.

She gets me off at a specific exit,

And by her voice its seems to me she’s getting smug,

We turn into the estate and now the fun starts

After three wrong turns I want to pull the plug.

‘Turn Left’ she says and I turn on the blinker,

‘Turn Left’ she says, her voice becomes a bawl,

‘Turn left’ she shouts and now I’m getting frightened,

So I turn left and hit a fecking wall.

Not a word of an apology from SatNav,

Maybe she’s searching for the right words she should say,

As I reverse she has the cheek to utter,

‘I will direct you as it seems you’ve lost your way.

‘Turn right and go ten metres and then turn left’

I follow her directions word for word

‘You’re reached your destination’ she announces,

Not unless my mates live in a nest just like a bird.

The headlights show the forest where she sent me,

I lose the head and roar that she’s a bitch,

It’s John of Gods for stress for me tomorrow

And I’m ripping out the fecking SatNav switch.




Sinead Hamill

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Do you remember well the feeling,

The one of utter joy?

When they held aloft the baby

And announced that ‘It’s a boy!’

There’s a reason they don’t tell you,

Exactly what’s in store,

‘cos if they did you may have leaped

Straight out the fecking door.

Boys should come with manuals

And a helmet on the head

Or bottles full of Valium

For their poor old mums instead.

It all starts with the willie

And some would argue there it stays,

But I’m on about the nappy change

And the direction that it sprays.

Pee hits the couch, it hits the dog,

Now Junior has let fly,

But yes, you will still smile at him as

He pisses in your eye.

So then he starts to toddle,

His footprints in the hall,

He’s toilet trained, well sort off

‘cos now he pisses on the wall.


Some Boys have a pungency

It starts about age three

Like rotting mounds of Brussels sprouts

Or something dead plucked from the sea.

They have certain rules of logic

When they begin to play,

Climb it or destroy it

If it appears it’s in the way.

‘Sit down & be quiet’

Are words they just don’t understand,

God help you when the hormones flood

From the pituitary gland.

You’ll have boners, spots, wet beds and thumps

Before lunchtime on most days,

And Grans & Grandads telling you,

‘it’s fine, it’s just a phase’.

So if you can, relax and sigh,

Through all the tantrums, pee and goo.

One day your boy becomes a man

And says ‘Mum, how I love you.’



Sinead Hamill    http://www.writeforme.ie/


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Everything goes full circle,
The question is where to begin,
Do you start on the inside running full steam,
Or the outside and work your way in?

For everyone life is a journey,
Down a path that’s completely unknown,
When you check in your stub at the finish,
Had you withered away or grown?

Maybe it’s all as a lesson,
Or a tester for some better place,
Does the mirror reflect the best you could have been
When you hold it to look at your face?

© Sinead Hamill

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A Message to you Cancer

Cancer you old bastard
I don’t know which cell let you in,
But buckle up my enemy because you ain’t gonna win.
You’re gonna have a fight on
And I’ve all my friends on board,
My family, those who love me,
Will help me bear the sword.
I’ll bring the battle to you,
You’ll see the strength I’ve got,
You’re gonna lose bastard cancer,
Ready now or not.
I know it won’t be easy,
You might knock me down some times
I’ll always get back up again,
To fight for what is mine.
So up yours bastard cancer,
They call you the big C,
You’re going down and here’s why,
Because you’re not as strong as ME!

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The Boat Trip

I am appalled by the migrant crisis and wrote this in honour of those who have died trying to find a better life for their families.

The Boat Trip

I’d like a boat trip with my daddy
Where we laugh and fish and play
Not this one so full of horror
Where hundreds die along the way

Look in the eyes of little children
Tossed in terror on the waves
Parents nothing left to offer them
Their only hope now to be brave

No new lands for them to settle
Time no longer on their side
At the mercy of the high seas
Nowhere left for them to hide

We’re all human don’t forget this
But for luck, you could be them
The world is vast, why not make some room
In desperate times, one needs a friend

This is the last trip with my daddy
As now we slip beneath the waves
We didn’t make it to a new life
Don’t turn away the ones you save

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Voodoo Sam


Bright eyes shining out from his ink black skin,
Never met anyone quite like him,
He’s my deep dark mystery man,
He’s wham bam voodoo Sam.

I’ve chased love across this world,
From here to Timbuktu,
Till I found what I need way down south,
In a shack out in the Bayou.

He makes love like no man can,
For his touch I’d be his slave,
Serpents twisting through his arms,
My Creole man so brave.

Baby I need some magic,
Better call Maire Laveau,
Louisiana voodoo queen,
She’s the one who’ll know.

I want him as my talisman,
My love for him is bare,
It took all my life to find him,
Now I ain’t gonna share.

Bright eyes shining out of his ink black skin,
Never met anyone quite like him,
He’s my deep dark mystery man,
He’s wham bam voodoo Sam.

© Sinead Hamill

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