The day the Satyrs came

They came for the cake,

they came for the dance,

some came to rekindle,

some on the off-chance

that sirens would be there,

And they’d all have a ball;

and those that didn’t arrive

couldn’t have heard the call.


They came for the weekend,

the revels, the craic;

and some that had come

they would never go back.


There was cake,

and very much drink,

the music was loud,

with no space to think;


the gig it was heaving,

a riotous win

and none thought of leaving,

and a few latecomers,

were still to come in.


Satyr Day was a success,

it reeked with much fun,

if you like yours in excess,

not a poem, a pun.


And Sunday was just

an extension in all but its name,

of Satyr’s Day’s jesting—

… until the dawning of Mun.


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