This is the city where I come from
And my folks and before them some
Who left good old Ireland
Yes this is the city where I come from
They came to make their way
They came to see a day
Where they could earn decent pay
To make a new life to be able to say
I am here to stay
I got a yesterday
I got a past
A tomorrow
And for sure a today
Because of the brave ones
Who found this place
Who breathed and lived their dream
The one I now embrace
I thank them with all my heart
Yes it's been a very human race
They came to make their way
They came to stay

Normally I don't celebrate a one day holiday
But it's a drinking holiday, so celebrate away
Drinking green beer
Spreading good cheer
To the Irish and non, Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Thank you fighting Irish,
for standing at my side
and I will do the same for you-
as I share in Irish pride,
it's time for every Irish heart,
to come out from where they hide,

We have come amazing distances,
from oppression at our throat,
and we wear some real
deep battle scars,
in an Irish fighting coat,
as we sailed in ships from an irish loam,
as we sailed
in freedom's boat,

All we came -
to this place
yeah we all came the same,
an our happiness-
it was the goal,
in our knowledge
that all hard work pays off
well so knows the diamond
from the coal,
and happy is the little fish,
finding comfort in a shoal,

An it's tattooed on our skin to see,
on an Irish skin so fair,
and in every Irish freckle seen,
it marks connection that we share,
an I don't have to guess at all,
how much my Irish Brothers care,
it's never too much to measure in,
the familiar things we bear,

The same for Irish sisters too,
and all of any other race,
as we are all connected true,
in all the light and colored face,
the color of your skin does not,
provide one with their grace,

We all can be some
Boondock Saints,
like my badass Irish kin,
we all share our connection deep
down below the earthly skin,
to think that what you do -I do
if you do wrong,
then I too "sin"
an we should not be fighting here,
if we join hands-
then we all win,

So I send an Irish blessing
to help you on your way
an I know that you don't need it
but I hear the bagpipes say,
that we have still much work to do,
before we all can hear it play
so as I get down on a bended knee
and again this morn' I pray,

And yeah some hands
were made for fightin'
all defendin' Irish wing
well I hope St. Christopher
he stay with you
until the final ring,
and bring a comfort
to your heart anew,
the kind that only real love bring,

I hope it finds you well
and happy -
an you be contented with your life
an I hope that all are grateful,
for every child, man and wife,
the best time to count your blessings
is when you're knocked down hard
with strife,

So I am sending you my Irish love
I sing laughter
- living mirth
to spread the seed so wide,
an defend from hell
on  Earth,
returned we are to innocence,
returned in death from birth,

I pray for all a peace to come
that one day all will know
just exactly what it's all been truly worth.

Ma Cherie © 2017

'Tis true what they say,
May your glass be half-full,
I discovered the same
In a quaint Irish pub.

On leaving that evening
I pulled on my mac,
The wind was wet
And pushing my back.

Pushing's surely
An understatement,
It drove so hard
My face met the pavement.
And I could hear Molly singing:
And the road rose up to meet him.

There was no sun
To blame for my face,
The burn on my skin
Was a shameless disgrace.

The road home that night
Was all downhill,
But with the hard rain,
All seemed uphill.

There's plenty
Of work
For this man's hands,
For the luck of the Irish
Is a tourism scam.

As for being in heaven
A half hour ahead
Of Ole Lucifer knowing
That I'm ten minutes dead;
I'm sure he'll be keening
At the foot of my bed.

Dad always said
Being Irish was grand,
If you're in North America
And not Ireland.

ITS NOT EASY BEING GREEN...

The 17th is a day when we celebrate
GREEN, whether we're IRISH or not...

It just seems like the thing to do
And it is my favorite color...

Where ever you go
You see people who hauled out that
GREEN shirt with a large
leprechaun drinking beer on it.
Once a year they wear that shirt
It will last forever...

Some dye their hair GREEN
And drink GREEN Beer
Jigs dinner....now I do love that
I wonder why Its not GREEN?

But soon I will take my
Shamrock off my front door
And my crazy profile picture
Off facebook
(YOUR WELCOME)
along with the shamrock banner
because,
"ITS NOT EASY BEING GREEN"

The came on the boat, not too long ago.
We are not the natives to this land.
They came in starvation, hearing the call of the huddled masses...
all because one man couldn't plant more than one variety of potato.
They could drink water on the boat but that doesn't stop the thirst,
an irishmen is taken to the bottle at birth, but never weaned.
An unwelcome visitor, no doubt the target of slander, they took up the courage not many would have.
Go West Young Man.

On the Emerald Isle when the brier's green,
Occur strange sights seldom seen.
There's golden rainbows and small clay pipes,
And wee folk dancing every night.

I've heard stories of the leprechaun, but
Before you see 'em they're surely gone.
Yet one green misty night in the brier,
I saw them jigging round the fire.

Sean and I were in green Irish woods,
Gathering shamrocks and just being good.
While searching near a hidden creek,
We heard faint giggles from fifty feet.

Near the giggles grew a small green fire,
Perhaps six inches high - no higher.
We crouched low for a better look,
To our surprise we saw a small green cook.

He wore a tall green hat and pulled-up socks,
And stirred a *** of simmering shamrocks.
Smoke curled from his pipe of clay,
Why, I remember his grin still today.

A band of gold encircled his brim,
My little finger seemed bigger than him.
He had golden buckles and a puggish nose,
Glimmering eyes and curly toes.

Sweet music floated on wings of air,
Fifty-one leprechauns were dancing near.
They passed the poteen with a smack of their lips,
As each in turn took a good Gaelic sip.

Suddenly the gaiety quickly slowed down.
Sure we were that we'd been found.
But they all looked north with reverent faces,
Bowed their heads, stood still in their places.

The banshee's wailing was heard afar,
O'erhead the Death Coach had a full car.
The wee folk respect, it must be said,
Erin's children when they're dead.

Soon flying fast through the green night air,
We spied King Darby hurrying near.
He rode atop his beloved steed,
O'er dales and glens, woods and mead.

His hummingbird lighted on a leaf,
And all the wee folk knelt beneath.
With a golden smile he waved to all,
To officially begin The Leprechaun Ball.

Tiny green fiddlers fiddled their fiddles,
That sounded just like ten thousand giggles.
Dancers danced on mists of green,
Pipers piped, but none were seen.

They danced and ate and passed the ladle,
And kicked up their heels to Irish reels.
We enjoyed the sight late into the night,
But suddenly they gave us a terrible fright.

They saw us cowering behind the trees,
So they cast a spell which made us freeze.
We'd heard what happens to caught spies,
That now are spiders, toads or flies.

Well, old King Darby drew us near,
Sean and I were in a terrible fear.
With a grin and a snap he made us small,
And requested our presence at the Leprechaun Ball.

We reeled and laughed with our new found friends,
'Til the green mist lifted to signal the end.
With a glean in his eye the good King said:
'Tis sure'n the hour yous be abed.

He waved his shillelagh to return our height,
Wished us well and bade good-night.
And as they rode the winds away
I suddenly remembered it was St. Patrick's Day.

I'm sure the lot of you think me a blarney liar, but that night I assure you
I danced 'round a green fire.

My Irish Heart.
As my heart
Beats for pure
Irish pride my
Happiness and
Love lives forever
Inside my beating
Irish heart
In Dublin town
We sing of joy
And forever love
My Irish heart
Smiles of pure
Irish love forever
Singing times
Of love and joy
Forever smiling
Happy and truly
Forever been a
True Irish man
My heart forever
Lives in Ireland.