The Lynch Wedding

They rented Fenway Pahk for the wedding pahty,
and the Isabelle Stewut Gahdner room, along with
private Duck boat too-uhs of the Commons and the Chahles,
three helicopters flew them back to Mahblehead Neck
and fyuhwuhks like Southie's nevah seen.
His daughter married a fucking count, they cheered
and cracked open a bottle of Lafitte-Rothschild champagne;
the last time they saw this vintage was in the old days
in Chahlestown, before tenements became brownstones,
when there were 12 kids or more to an apahtmunt.
They found it in a case pilched from the old Navy yahd,
where all the bahs were, one night after the loopers
flew the cahs along the trolley tracks
down the Bunker Hill Monument, middle finger to the world,
to the Friday night cah burning (the only money
in those days was the weekly bet they made
on who could steal the wickedest cah from Jamaica Plain.
They ahgued and drank and voted and spat, sending the rest
to a burning rubber hell they called "Montego Bay"
and crammed 20 of them micks into the winnah cah
to go hammah'd in a loop around the neighbahhood
-the cops had bigger fish to fry). They drank that bottle
when the liquor ran dry. It tasted great with Fresca.