happy st padraics day

If you ever go across the sea to Ireland,
Then maybe at the closing of your day,
You will sit and watch the moon rise over Claddagh,
And see the sun go down on Galway Bay.
Just to hear again the ripple of the trout stream,
The women in the meadow making hay.
Just to sit beside a turf fire in the cabin,
And watch the barefoot gosoons at their play.

For the breezes blowin’ o’er the sea from Ireland
Are perfumed by the heather as they blow
And the women in the uplands diggin’ praties
Speak a language that the strangers do not know.

Yet the stangers came and tried to teach us their way.
They scorned us just for bein’ what we are.
But they might as well go chasing after moon beams,
Or light a penny candle from a star.

And if there’s is going to be a life hereafter,
And somehow I am sure there’s going to be,
I will ask my God to let me make my heaven,
In that dear land across the Irish sea

Oh, Mary, this London’s a wonderful sight
With people here working by day and by night
They don’t sow potatoes, nor barley, nor wheat
But there’ gangs of them digging for gold in the streets
At least when I asked them that’s what I was told
So I just took a hand at this diggin’ for gold
But for all that I found there I might as well be
Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea

I believe that when writin’ a wish you expressed
As to how the fine ladies in London were dressed
Well, if you believe me, when asked to a ball
Faith, they don’t wear a top to their dresses at all.
Oh, I’ve seen them myself and you could not in truth
Say if they were bound for a ball or a bath
Don’t be startin’ them fashions now, Mary Macree
Where the mountains of Mourne sweep out to the sea

You remember young Peter O’Loughlin, of course
Well, now he is here at the head of the force
I met him today, I was crossing the Strand
And he stopped the whole street with a wave of his hand
And there we stood talkin’ of days that are gone
While the whole population of London looked on
But for all these great powers he’s wishful like me
To be back where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea

There’s beautiful girls here, oh, never you mind
With beautiful shapes nature never designed
And lovely complexions all roses and cream
But O’Loughlin remarked with regard to the same
That if at those roses you ventured to sip
The colors might all come away on your lip
So I’ll wait for the wild rose that’s waitin’ for me
Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea

@sharongooner wrote:

Caths been at the black stuff I see :lol: :wink:

I wish lol tuts st paddys day an im stuck at home tuts…..me mum used to love st paddys day….. out would come the makesons (yes mackesons lol) and by the end of the evening she’d be singing black velvet gown followed by delaneys donkey and always end up with danny boy ………. i was telling someone earlier she woz 5ft nuffin , bout a size 8 i suppose lol and had a real irish fiery temper lol bless her :D

@Sgt Pepper wrote:

Actually, Padraic is an acceptable spelling too.. used in many parts here. So don’t fret about it mo cuishla :wink:

Watch some Riverdance instead!

:P

fantastic sgt!!!! still gives me goosebumps that lol xx

@sharongooner wrote:

My gran will be singing sweet molly malone and danny boy, but then again it dont have to be paddys day, nor alcohol for her to have a sing song lol

lol sharon :D