Irish Celebration

Last week, I told you that Monty and I had just watched “Hamilton” and that the rhymes and rhythm of it had captivated me. I wrote my own piece inspired by “Hamilton.” Since I wrote that, I’ve realized that I may have watched “Hamilton” a few too many times—our cats are now quoting it. This morning, I heard Seamus delivering a monologue of sorts. When Carrick chimed in, I decided to write down what they were saying. If you’re unfamiliar with “Hamilton,” it’s a musical written mostly in hip hop. To get the rhythm, just say the words “Alexander Hamilton” out loud; that’s the slow, steady beat of Seamus’s words. Carrick’s words, like him, are a bit faster.

Seamus:
“I was an orphan, a foundling, living at the pound—
just a cat with no background surrounded by strange sounds
‘til a man came and got me and said that we were homebound.
‘You’re a present for your mother,’ said this man I didn’t know;
just two hours later we walked into my new home.
I loved my mother instantly; I needed her; she needed me
Now here I am six years later—just my mom and Dad and me.
If you’re wondering who I am, let me start with my name:
it’s distinguished, royal, and perfect—yes, my name is James.
You may have heard it’s Seamus; you’re wrong, but you don’t know it
My mom bestowed that name on me; she named me for a poet—
an Irish one, no less, so no one can pronounce it.
I’ve taken the British form—James—as for Seamus, I’ve renounced it.
James is much more to my liking—quite apt for a cat like me—
Wait, is someone speaking? Dare someone interrupt me?”

Carrick:
“Aye! ‘Tis I! I want equal time
to drop some rhymes and say my lines—
come on now, let’s speed this up
to double time—Mackin, back me up:
I’m C to the A to the double R I C K
Yes, Carrick—it’s a true Irish name!
Now I’ve got questions for you, “James:”
So you deny you’re Irish, bro?
You don’t mention you have brothers, yo?
You can’t just turn your back on us
and pretend you’re not the same as us—
We have Irish names, sport the Irish flag
play Irish games, wear Irish tags!
We’re loud and proud and allowed to be
We’re Irish, bro—how lucky are we?!
So are you gonna admit that you know us
Or say you’re James and disown us?”

Seamus:
“Good lord! That was so unexpected!
I have no interest in your questions
This dialogue is quite unpleasant—
and I do not engage with peasants!”

Carrick:
“If we’re peasants, bro, then so are you
Come on, now—just tell the truth!”

Seamus:
“The truth is I feel something new—could it be respect for you?!
How strange it feels; it makes me sweat
I heard what you said; I didn’t like it and yet—
You reminded me of what I’d tried to forget:
you two, like me, were on your own
spending your days and nights alone
Like me, you wished for a dad and mother—
Did you ever dream you might have brothers?”

Carrick:
“I dreamed it, yes, but it seemed too much
yet with a little hope and lots of luck—“

Seamus:
“Good lord! Let’s not get sentimental
but I do admit it’s not accidental
that the three of us are together now
with Mom and Dad in our roomy house
We get treats all day; we get to run amuck
Maybe you’re right—it’s that Irish luck.
So I have decided that I don’t hate you
but here are the rules for me to tolerate you:
You need to know that I’ll still chase you
I’ll box your ears and reiterate to you:
if we’re going to share because we’re brothers
you two can have Dad; I’ll take our mother.
Before we go, remember one thing—
this is my house, and I’m the king.”

Carrick:
“That’s fine with us, but what will you say
when I ask you now: bro, what’s your name?”

Seamus:
“Fine, little bro! You’re awfully pushy, you know
In answer to your question, listen up—here I go:
My name is Seamus, rhymes with famous
and I’m as Irish as my name is.”

Carrick:
“Aye! Let’s celebrate what happened
but we need a word from Mackin.”

Mackin:
“Word.”

Carrick:
“Okay—well, that’s that then!”