The Enya Poem

Enya's Music Isn't Bad.

She Aims To Keep it Airy.

But How Much Longer Will She Play

The "Ooohing" "Aaahing" Fairy?

Her Songs Are All Recycled

From Nineteen Ninety-Two.

And Everything Since Then Just Sounds

Like "Caribbean Blue."

This Album Isn't Different.

Its Melodies Are Stale.

This Platter's Flatter Than a

Pint of Day-Old Irish Ale.

She Used To Be Majestic,

Her Changing Chords Inspiring.

Yet Once Again She's Made a Batch

Of Tunes Quite Simply Tiring.

The Lukewarm Structures Bore Us

(It's Like She Isn't TRYIN'!)

Enya, Girl, It's Time To Fire

That Cloying Roma Ryan.

The Fans Expect "Generic," Though,

So Why Should Enya Mess

With Formulaic Patterns

That Have Made Her a Success?

It's White-Noise Just For Christmas,

It's Enya's Middling Show.

The Quality's Not Even Close

To "Orinoco Flow."