St Paddie's day when the old do play,
And as we used to say, all are gay.
But who will pay as we play,
For most do hope to stay.


The green of Erin, the land of yore,
Where our forefathers roamed the moor.
Where the heather and thistle grew,
Where shamrocks were picked by lovers.



 

Thistle and shamrocks ah indeed.
Until that famine did arrive
And so many young and old
Made their way across the sea.


So sing a song of Ireland,
Oh what a magnificent land.
Where the little people roam,
And a pint is shunned by few.


So sing a ribald and bawdy song,
Do not sit there forlorn,
Smile and spread good cheer,
St Paddie's day is almost here.

 

 

 

The Irish see the 'Wee People" under every leaf. The fairies and elves and leprechauns exist there. The fog is different in Ireland, it's magical. When the Irish love, they love to the end of time. When they mourn, the world knows their sorrow. They can hold a grudge longer than eternity though.

They sing songs and speak poetry in their ordinary lives. The Old Language is a musical one and those that hear Gaelic aren't sure if it's being spoken or sung. There are many recognized religions in Ireland, but there are more than a few which have kept some of the wisdom of the Druids mixed into a blend that works on the Emerald Isle. That's why they still have the fairies and the leprechauns and even the banshees still dancing in the moonlight and giving wishes and warnings. You don't let go of a mystery that still works.



                        



Funny Angels

Autumn's Blessings

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Woodland Walk

My Dwelling Place






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