Here's to you, Here's to me
May us all drink two, maybe three

Here's to beer, Here's to wine
Long as your here, we should all be fine

Éire,
The beauty of a broken land,
Where each and every man
Took up his own fight
And fought it with all his might

She belonged to him, no other man,
So he said to her each day she left.
To sell the eggs and the dress she made,
To pull them from the line of the poor.

On the way to town each day she passed,
The rings of County Tipperary.
The ancient rings that live the wee folk,
Who dance in moonlight and trick us all.

That day she waited to see her kin,
But she left no gift to please the old.
So home she came with arms still heavy,
and a chest that weighed a cough so foul.  

“My Bridget” as he knelt by her bed,
Holding her hand as it shook with cold.
In the crack of the flame voices he heard
To hang him from his grief with despair.

The news he heard was of his father
Whom died the evening he felt alone.
Mr Cleary swore and slammed his fist.
“Midnight tonight or Bridget is lost!”

The men in village knew the tale,
Of the wee folk who cursed Bridget.
The woman in the Cleary home bed,
Was an echo of the wife he loved.

They held her down and asked her, her name,
She screamed and growled but did not reply,
Three times they asked and still she refused.
So tight the grips they beat her to sleep.

The morning arrived, Bridget awoke,
To her husband who looked upon her.
His eyes full of loss and fear as-well,
“my Bridget?” he asked “are they gone now?”

She smiled and agreed, she was alone,
So the priest came to deliver mass.
Mr Cleary agreed and drank from the cup
But he knew that his wife was not home.

He asked her again, three more times; “Speak,
Your name to me now, are you my wife?”
Each time she replied “It is I, Yes.”
Michael still knew his wife was away.

That evening men from the town arrived  
And took Bridget deep into the bog,
Where they bound her and lay her down flat,
As she screamed for her husband to help.

“It is I, It is me, Your sweet wife,
Believe me my husband I am here,
No faerie has seized my soul from me,
No witch has uttered a devil curse.”

Her mouth was covered and bound so tight
Her screams were made only with her eyes.
In front of the men, Michael asked her.
“Are you my wife? My Bridget Cleary?”

No voice or reply came from the girl.
Her body lay still in the bog land.
So onto a bed of wood she was placed,
And burned in the cold evening moon light.

The story was told through the village,
That Bridget had fled with another,
A man who bought all her eggs each week,
But not everyone believed this tale.

The priest of the village found Michael,
Praying blood, sweat and tears in the church.
He told him the fairies had taken,
The changeling they had placed there before.    

The priest told the men of the Garda
That ****** was rife in this village.
That men had taken a sick women
And burned her to death in the bog land.

Michael was guilty of Manslaughter
No conviction of ****** was passed
For the people believed his story,
The woman who burned was not his wife  

To this day the rings of Tipperary
Still grow foxglove and weeds in the cracks,
The Faerie mounds are feared like darkness
And steered clear of, by those who live near.

Even now it is heard in the school,
By the children who skip on the rope.
“Are you a witch, or are you a fairy,
Or are you the wife of Michael Cleary?”

After the moon was through with night,
But the sun had not brought morning light.
The other scouts slept in their tents
After an evening full of merriment.

I sat alone and watched the leaves
Blow softly as the forest breathes.
I fell from my Stump in pure surprise,
At the creature that landed before my eyes.

It had a head of a bird and a beak of an owl,
But the body was surely. Not that of a fowl .
Four legs were spread wide like those of a bear
But it didn’t have paws under its charcoal hair.

The talons it owed were gripping a tree,
A felled one directly in front of me.
Its tail Was so long I could not see the end
The length of a python couldn’t contend.

It stared hard at me, and I back at it,
It studied the fire that no longer was lit.
Then without a sound it tilted its head,
Right there and then I was sure I was dead.

I followed its eyes to see what it saw,
While not moving my gaze from. It’s scary big Claw.
I knew one wrong move would. Not be to clever
But I had no idea what it wanted, none whatsoever.
There was nothing else for it, I just had to know
“excuse me! “ I asked “are you friend or foe?”
It ruffled its feathers and shook all its fur,
It whipped back its tail so fast its a blur.

It poked its head forward into my tent
I knew there and then, just what that meant
He wanted some food, bit all I had was crisps,
Maybe a few jelly babies, and ready salted wisps.

I reached in and got them handed him the rest
I had saved all the red ones, coz I liked them best.
From the look in his eyes and the smell of his breath
I best hand them over as matter of life over death.

He gobbled them up with a crunch, slide and burp,
Not the noise I expected from a bird, not a chirp.
I can’t quite explain how you smile with a beak
But the giant bird gleamed with a certain mystique.

That’s when it decided it had to repay,
It did so in the most peculiar way.
It turned on its talons, and aimed up its ***
I thought to myself, I know what’s to come

But to my surprise came a large crystal. Egg
Popped out and rolled over and stopped by my leg
I was startled, relieved and knew not what to do,
I was really just glad I wasn’t covered in poo.

As I lifted the egg it flew into the air
It blew over the tents that were all pegged in there
The rest of my troop now awake from the noise
Rolled out of their tents, all angry young boys.

“hey fella! “ they screamed “ what’s the big deal?”
Still speechless I didn’t know what I should feel
I just pointed up and we watched the thing soar,
They we weren’t shouting or screaming at me any more.

I buried the egg before my scout leader saw
I don’t think that was Stealing, its not against the law.
I week later I went back to dig up my prize,
With dreams of endless wealth and hope in my eyes.

But when I arrived the monster had followed
With a massive big belly, maybe cow it had swallowed
The creature was full that was clear to see,
Reassuring and fine, there was no room for me.

I went to the tree and dug up the prize,
I don’t know how in a week it had doubled in size,
I handed it over, right back to its mother,
It nuzzled it back to me like I was it’s brother.

Each week we came back and the egg still was growing,
Rocking side to side, what moves it was throwing.
One week I arrive just in time to catch,
the egg start to rattle and crack and then hatch.

Out climbed a baby, all scruffy and bald,
As ugly as sin and as equally appalled.
It gave a big yawn and tiny we ****,
Then readied itself to get a head start.

The mother kawed and baby kawed in return
Imparting wisdom in kaws, and things it should learn.
That’s when the baby looked over to me,
It tilted its head wondering what I could be.

A snack, or dinner, or an aperitif
Someone invading its nest, it thought I was a thief!
I bolted and ran strait towards me I swear,
I ducked just in time as it flew through the air.

The mother had knocked the baby beast back,
It landed and moaned and gave out a quack.
Another loud Kaw came out of its beak,
It knew it was wrong, apologizing with a squeek.

From that moment on we became the best of friends,
I brought them both jelly babies, and built up their dens.
I was invited to join the wooflepoofle clan,
Wish I could say this was all part of my master plan.

I was honored to be part of the family
But I could never understand why the wooflepoople choose me?
Maybe he heart of my soul, or something thereabouts,
But I know it would never have happened if I wasn’t in the scouts.

Time for school,
Get out of bed,
Come on now lazy,
I know your not dead.

Stop pretending,
don’t make a fuss,
You need to get dressed,
Or you miss the bus!

No time for a shower,
Get washed in the sink.
Remember your ears,
And you pits or you'll stink!

Get some toast and your shoes,
Then strait out the door,
No you cant pull a sickie,
So Get up off the floor!

You’ve eaten your breakfast,
Now your belly is full,
Now get out of my sight,
GET YOUR **** INTO SCHOOL!

The sound of the dead,
Make no more a chill,
Than the gentle breeze,
Of a morning draft,
Whispering through,
Ivy covered windows,
of an empty,Thatched roof cottage.
                                        
With words,
Sticking like ice,
From the dead lips of the departed owner.
Through hinges that creek their request,
Remember I, Remember.

Faries live in the hawthorn,
Gnomes live under rocks,
Trolls stay under bridges,
And nessie’s stay in the Loughs.

Pookas come close to farmers,
Changlings come to babes,
Spirits in the mirrors,
Kelpies in the waves.

The little folk are trouble,
In the heat they bring the cold,
They trick the weary traveler,
With pots of magic gold.

They whisper on the breeze,
While hidden in the mist,
Without them doing anything,
Remind you they exist.

They write about themselves,
So we don’t think they’re real,
They carved the lines in oghm,
magic words in ancient ghael.

Yet still we leave them gifts,
Bits of whisky & pooka’s share,
We have never ever seen one,
Yet we know that they are there.

is mo croí theanga í,
is an t-anam ó t-am dearmadta
gur ní cuimhnigh mé.

tá sé bhriste 's,
neamhiomlán,
ach is breá liom í fos

mar sin,
is mo bhaile í
agus tiocfaidh an lá
nuair tá mo theanga agam