Dear Mr Brooks,
You don’t know me; I live in
Erin’s green isle,
I am a country and western
fan all my life,
I was going to travel many a
fair mile,
So you could sing to me and
the wife,
Aiken promotions were
flogging tickets,
And rubbing their hands with
the profit they’d make,
Then the residents placed all
their pickets,
And the GAA foundations began
to shake,
Dublin city council saw only
dollar signs in the air,
And the wife was all excited
to be going to your gig,
And you say it’s all or
nothing “to be fair”,
My opinion is you are not too
big,
And I am planning to find you
somehow somewhere,
You see I got friends in low
places,
Who drink whiskey straight
given half a chance?
They could not care less
about your social graces,
Both the wife and I are in pain
we’re missing the dance,
There is a fine line between
love and hate,
So I’ve taken a total dislike
to your music and tunes,
The wife and I don’t speak I
hope you think it’s great,
My sex life is firmly in
tatters and ruins,
So, Mr Brooks you might have
missed the pain,
But half of Ireland is now
missing their dance,
And all my friends in low
places have nothing to gain,
But believe me they won’t
miss their chance,
Between you, Mr Aiken, Dublin
city council and the GAA,
Along with the Irish
government at large,
All your fans are in shock we
have very little to say,
I’d appreciate a ticket to a
different place free of charge,
I’ll hold off on my friends
in low places,
Who don’t dance but like to
inflict some pain,
And if you reconsider it
might stop the wife from pulling faces,
Between you and me I think we
both could gain.
Sincerely yours the husband
of a garth brooks fan,
Not I might add living
anywhere near the capital city,
Anywhere else in the world
they’d say bring it on we’ll do all we can,
Alas the world simply evolves
solely around Dublin more’s the pity.
