Paul Durcan b.1944   "Raymond of the Rooftops"   The morning after the night The roof flew off the house And our sleeping children narrowly missed Being decapitated by falling slates, I asked my husband if he would Help me put back the roof: But no – he was too busy at his work Writing for a women's magazine in London An Irish fairytale called Raymond of the Rooftops. Will you have a heart, woman – he bellowed – Can't you see I am up to my eyes and ears in work, Breaking my neck to finish Raymond of the Rooftops, Fighting against time to finish Raymond of the Rooftops, Putting everything I have got into Raymond of the Rooftops? Isn't is well for him? Everything he has got! All I wanted him to do was to stand For an hour, maybe two hours, three at the most, At the bottom of the stepladder And hand me up slates while I slated the roof: but no – once again I was proving to be the insensitive, Thoughtless, feckless even, wife of the artist. There was I up to my fat, raw knees in rainwater Worrying him about the hole in our roof While he was up to his neck in Raymond of the Rooftops. Will you have a heart, woman – he bellowed – Can't you see I am up to my eyes and ears in work, Breaking my neck to finish Raymond of the Rooftops, Fighting against time to finish Raymond of the Rooftops, Putting everything I have got into Raymond of the Rooftops? Isn't it well for him? Everything he has got!