Showing posts with label shamrock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shamrock. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Some More Irish Blessings


May your day be touched
by a bit of Irish luck,
brightened by a song in your heart,
and warmed by the smiles
of the people you love.


Bless those minding cattle,
And those minding sheep,
And those fishing the sea
While the rest of us sleep.


May the rains sweep gentle across your fields,
May the sun warm the land,
May every good seed you have planted bear fruit,
And late summer find you standing in fields of plenty.


May the frost never afflict your spuds.
May the leaves of your cabbage always be free from worms.
May the crows never pick your haystack.
If you inherit a donkey, may she be in foal.


Wherever you go and whatever you do,
May the luck of the Irish be there with you.
Wishing you always...
Walls for the wind,
A roof for the rain
And tea beside the fire.



Laughter to cheer you,
Those you love near you,
And all that your heart may desire.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Danny Boy

Danny Boy

I used to have a writing partner who, every St. Patrick's Day, would astonish us by demonstrating that he could actually cook, and bring us to tears with his rendition of "Danny Boy."  Jack died in 2008, but I can't hear the song without thinking of him, standing at the piano, harmonica in his hand.

May the good earth be soft under you
when you rest upon it,
and may it rest easy over you when,
at the last, you lay out under it,
And may it rest so lightly over you
that your soul may be out
from under it quickly,
and up, and off,
And be on its way to God.



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.


And while this isn't Jack and his buddies, they are guaranteed to bring a tear to the eye.




St.Patrick's treasures here.