Once there was a Dublin hospital,

A sullen, Nightingale institute,

Whose 1980s walls would house a miracle,

And sprout embryos who would come to repute.

 

Two princes born to mother, Louis Walsh

Lay vulnerable and crying for their fame,

But before they could suckle, the angels

Were baptised with their Siamese stage name:

 

John + Edward = Jedward.

 

The crown of hair was set atop their heads,

The name again fusing their embryos.

Yet, like a nightmare – lying in their beds,

The twins were separated, each now alone.

 

Split apart at birth, each was bitter.

In fairness, on their own they were nothing.

While Edward had a full name, do consider,

The other’s name was just the letter ‘J’.

 

While ‘J’ was the son of a coal miner,

Edward would slave to please his stepmother.

But sorrow bred dreams of reaching higher,

Of singing with Vanilla Ice or being a ghost buster.

 

However, one fine day when they were teens,

They had, by chance, both been sent to complete

An errand which would reunite their dreams

At Dublin’s town hall, where they’d happen to meet.

 

It was as if it were destined to be,

Each glanced across the room, as if a mirror.

They spotted their reflection and irresistibly

Shared a rendition of the Macarena.

 

And as they grew together they would plan

Whether endless jumping in a song befits,

And become one another’s biggest fan

In pop music’s first civil partnership.

 

Adam Woolley