May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face.
And rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.
- Irish Blessing
The beauty of small town living...
- ROSE
- Bomont, West Virginia, United States
- When you have no idea what you're doing, somebody else will ... or at least make something up & run with it.
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Conversely,
May the curse of Mary Malone and her nine blind illegitimate children chase you so far over the hills of Damnation that the Lord himself can't find you with a telescope.
- Irish Curse
HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!
& my favorite,
There are many good reasons for drinking,
One has just entered my head.
If a man doesn't drink when he's living,
How in the hell can he drink when he's dead?
- Irish Philosophy
May those that love us, love us.
And those that don’t love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if he doesn’t turn their hearts,
May he turn their ankles,
So we’ll know them by their limping.
An Irish Pub Joke...
An Irishman, an Englishman and a Scotsman go into a pub. Each orders a pint of Guinness. Just as the bartender hands them over, three flies buzz down and land-- one, two, three-- in each of the pints.
The Englishman looks disgusted, pushes his pint away and demands another... the Scotsman picks out the fly, shrugs, and takes a long swallow.
The Irishman reaches in to the glass, grabs the fly between his fingers and shakes him as hard as he can, shouting 'Spit it out, ya bloody ba*tard! Spit it out!'
Green beer, anyone?
Hi to all.
Some Guiness was spilt on the barroom floor
When the pub was shut for the night
Out of his hole crept a wee brown mouse
And stood in the pale moonlight
He lapped up the frothy brew from the floor
Then back on his haunches he sat
And all the night you could hear him roar
"Bring on the gawd*&#@ cat!"
May the saints protect you,
And sorrow neglect you,
And bad luck to the one
That doesn't respect you.
May you never make an enemy
When you could make a friend —
Unless you meet a fox among your chickens.
May you have the hindsight to know where you've been,
the foresight to know where you're going,
and the insight to know when you've gone too far.
I-rish you a very nice place to live,
I-rish God's greatest gifts he'll give.
I-rish you health, and wealth, and more--
I-rish your smilin' face were at my door!
May the grass grow long on the road to hell for want of use.
May you live to be a hundred years, with one extra year to repent.
As you slide down the banisters of life may the splinters never point the wrong way.
May your troubles be as few and as far apart as my Grandmothers teeth.
Here's that we may always have a clean shirt, a clean conscience, and a guinea in our pocket.
May you die in bed at ninety-five years, shot by a jealous husband(or wife).
May your doctor never earn a dollar out of you and may your heart never give out. May the ten toes of your feet steer you clear of all misfortune, and before you're much older, may you hear much better toasts than this.
There are good ships, and there are wood ships,
The ships that sail the sea.
But the best ships are friendships,
And may they always be.
Some may say the glass is half empty,
Some may say the glass is half full,
But the Irish will forever say
"Are you gonna drink that?"
When we drink, we get drunk.
When we get drunk, we fall asleep.
When we fall asleep, we commit no sin.
When we commit no sin, we go to heaven.
So, let's all get drunk, and go to heaven!
Looks as if I'm the only one who hasn't kissed the Blarney Stone. lol.
go over on Georges blog and vote they got another poll up
Don't hate me because I'm beautiful, hate me because I'm Irish & you're not!!
No hurry, brulz, we'll be feelin' the Blarney for a few more days.
LOL
LOL
Top o' the mornin' to ya all!
The Deaf Mule
An Irishman named O'Leary, who loved to sing as he worked, bought a mule to farm his garden. The mule worked well but was almost totally deaf. So, when his owner yelled, "Whoa!", the animal often continued plowing. Asked how the mule was working out, O'Leary shook his head. "There was a time," he said, "when all the neighbors could here was me singing my lilting melodies. Lately, I'm afraid, they've heard nothing but .... my riled Irish whoa's!"
hehehe
Dang it, I need to read a little closer before I post. LOL Here's one that HASN'T already been posted. (I dont' think. heh)
Drink is the curse of the land.
It makes you fight with your neighbor.
It makes you shoot at your neighbor.
It makes you miss.
What whiskey will not cure, there is no cure for.
When Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, 'tis like the morn in Spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter
You can hear the angels sing.
When Irish hearts are happy,
All the world seems bright and gay.
And when Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, they steal your heart away ...
(want me to keep singin'? BAHAHAHAHA)
When I hear that wind blow,
all across the Wicklow mountains.
Is it you, I hear a calling.
Johnny boy, oh Johnny boy.
When I look to the west,
all across the River Shannon.
I can still see you smiling.
Johnny boy, oh Johnny boy.
When the leaves have turned to brown
and winter's due.
As I watch the sun goes down,
I'll think of you.
When I hear that wind blow,
all across the Wicklow mountains.
Sure it's you, I'll hear a calling.
Johnny boy, oh Johnny boy.
This isn't the one I was thinking of, but's all I could come up with for this holiday. I've been too preoccupied with my own birthday, which has been an ongoing celebration where I work. I may have to commute when I move!!
CB
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.
Dang! Figures! As soon as I posted that last one, I remembered it was DANNY Boy! I knew it was somebody's boy!
CB
CB, your post made me think of "Danny Boy". :) I have always really liked that song. It's sad, yet has a tune that sticks with ya'. Since it IS an Irish tune, I'm gonna' post the lyrics. Hope ya' don't mind, Rose. :)
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.
And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.
And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.
Well, dang. I type too slow. LMAO I think I'm gonna' quit posting for a while. hahaha
My wild Irish Rose,
The sweetest flow'r that grows,
You may search ev'rywhere,
But none can compare
With my wild Irish Rose.
My wild Irish Rose,
The dearest flow'r that grows,
And some day for my sake,
She may let me take
The bloom from my wild Irish Rose.
Encore!
If you'll listen, I'll sing you a sweet little song,
Of a flower that's now drooped and dead,
Yet dearer to me, yes, than all of its mates,
Tho' each holds aloft its proud head.
'Twas given to me by a girl that I know,
Since we've met, faith, I've known no repose,
She is dearer by far than the world's brightest star,
And I call her my wild Irish Rose.
My wild Irish Rose,
The sweetest flow'r that grows,
You may search ev'rywhere,
But none can compare
With my wild Irish Rose.
My wild Irish Rose,
The dearest flow'r that grows,
And some day for my sake,
She may let me take
The bloom from my wild Irish Rose.
They may sing of their roses which, by other names,
Would smell just as sweetly, they say,
But I know that my Rose would never consent
To have that sweet name taken away.
Her glances are shy when e'er I pass by
The bower, where my true love grows;
And my one wish has been that some day I may win
The heart of my wild Irish Rose.
My wild Irish Rose,
The sweetest flow'r that grows,
You may search ev'rywhere,
But none can compare
With my wild Irish Rose.
My wild Irish Rose,
The dearest flow'r that grows,
And some day for my sake,
She may let me take
The bloom from my wild Irish Rose.
LOL The War of the Boys. LOL Y'all do know that both Elvis AND Conway sang that at some point, don't you?
& I don't mind a bit, Smiley. We're 30+ posts into this one & still enjoyin' a wee bit o' the Blarney! (I ain't sayin' nuthin', but you know what I'm sayin' BAHAHAHAHA)
Wasn't going to bring it up, CB, but ...
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!
A toast to your coffin.
May it be made of 100 year old oak.
And may we plant the tree together,
tomorrow.
Isn't Wild Irish Rose a ... fine wine? teeheehee
Mornin' Rose and all.
Remember to wear something green today or ya might get pinched; or maybe getting pinched might not be all that bad. Guess that could depend on who is pinching where.
Have a fun and HAPPY ST. PATRICK's DAY.
Top o' the mornin', all!!
How many little old men do you suppose will get their hands smacked for pinching little old ladies on their fannies today? "Sorry, I'm color blind."
WOOHOO!! LOL
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
thought it was the war of the Rose's.
My wild irish Rose
The yellow rose of Tejas
the bawdy Rose of Bomont
any more roses out there
Just heard on the radio that there are more Irish people in New York City than in Dublin.
But may be more of everything in New York City than anywhere else.
I want to go to NYC someday. In my own mind, it'll be like going to Busch Gardens - you know, how you go from "country" to "country" ?? I'll have to get a new straw hat & corncob pipe to complete my Bumpkin'ness. LOL
HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!
I wanna go too, Rose. Think "The Big Apple" could handle two bumpkins at the same time?
Wouldn't that be a hoot. The city would never be the same but we would. Once a bumpkin, always a bumpkin. lol.
The wee lads & lasses got out of school early today. Reckon it was so the teachers could get a early start on the green beer?
Anybody know who owns the new blog?
I know who owns the new blog. >:P
What new blog??????
*waves* I'm still here. LOL
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