And may the strength of three be in your journey. Sláinte’.

 

Saint Patrick's Day: At King David’s Pub and Winery

(Scene opens in Heaven, at David's Pub.  Seamus and Patrick are sitting at the bar.  Patrick is asleep, with his head on the bar counter.)

Seamus (St. James):  Say, Paddy, now.  Wake up, you idjit. 

Padraig (St. Patrick)/Paddy:  Ah, Seamus.  Can ye not leave a good saint to a daecent sleep?

Seamus:  It’s yer people there, Paddy.  They’re at it again.  (Leaning over his pint, looking down on the velvet green)

Paddy:  Oh, Mother of God, is it that day already?

Maire (St. Mary):  Paddy, was it ye who called?  Oh.  (She looks down on Dublin.)  So.  Yer Irishmen are at the celebratin’ yer Holy Day.  The day ye up and died down there.

Paddy:  (Looking down) So ‘tis, Maire.  And would ye look—Chicago has dumped green into ta rivers again!  As if that meant a ting, Lord help us.

The Lord God: (enters with angels singing and clouds billowing)  Was it ye, Paddy, that called m’name?  (Seamus and Paddy vacate their pub stools immediately.)    David, here, be a good man, and pour me a glass of cider.

King David:  Aye, My Lord.  The best Yer Hands ever made, here Ye go.  Have at it. (David pushes the glass over to God, who has settled down on a stool.)

The Lord God:  So, Paddy, what’s troublin’ ye, up here in heaven? 

Paddy:  Oh, it’s the Irish people agin.  They’re after celebratin’ my holy day with all sorts of carryin’ ons.  And it bein’ Lent, ‘tis a sad ting ta behold. 

Chicago

The Lord God:  (quaffing a satisfying amount of apple cider) Well, ye know, Paddy,  People ha’ forgotten jest what I did for them, sendin’ ye to Ireland.  They were a terrible mean group, worshippin’ trees and such, ‘fore ye taught ‘em about the Trinity.

  

Seamus:  Yer right, My Lord.  An’ Paddy drove out them there serpents, and done all them miracles.  Ye did right good work, there.  (Seamus pats Paddy on the shoulder, who nods and perks up a bit.  Maire sits down next to The Lord God.)

The Lord God:    ‘Tis my desire that ye shake the Irish up a wee bit.  Paddy, ye go down to yer holy wells—there’s one down near Cork I’m partial to.  Stir the waters up a bit when there’s a group there.  And, Maire, go to some of yer holy grottoes, and send some tears down the cheeks of yer image.  That’ll make the Irish think a bit.  I bet ye’ll see more pious Irish at Mass come Good Friday.

Ballinaspittle, Cork Ireland

 Seamus:  I’ll go along with ‘em, My Lord, jest to keep ‘em company.  (The three saints exit.)

The Lord God:  (watches the saints depart, and laughs softly) Ah, there go some fine saints.  Glad I made ‘em.  (He leaves the pub in a cloud of glory, with angels singing.  David gathers up the glassware, and hums “When the saints go marching in…”  Scene ends.)

Hand hurts less.  Right hand is complaining. This is a repost from 2015. it was fun to do.  How to pronounce Toast below.. 

SLAHN'-CHUH

WedWords: Marching Home

Source

When Hitler threw open the gate of war, he had no doubt that his enemies would blunder and fumble through years of ineptitude.  A game to him, Hitler watched and waited.

The small village of Cranville-off-Trent lined the streets as their own brave boys set off to war.  Tears, so many tears dropped onto the cobblestone street where their sons had walked.  Come home!  Write!

At the "River and Trout" where publican Jim Garvey served many pints that day, he listened with equanimity and compassion for his patrons. Many pints over days, months, and then years were served, as Jimmy comforted despondent friends, waiting for their boys. 

Slowly, brave boys returned home, one by one.  Grieving parents, whose sons lay in graves somewhere, cheered for each young man.

source

Jim served many pints each time.  And he always poured a pint in memory of those who did not march home. Here’s to ye, brave lads.  God love ye and keep ye.

Two words sent me down this road:  publican and despondent.  We knew many publicans (pub owners) in Ireland, all good kind souls.  Most of them did not drink.

These bold underlined words are compliments of Elephant's Child for Wednesday Words.  Please click on her site, sit back and enjoy.  E.C.'s blogs always provide beauty and interest.

And....please look at the random words and take some time to write anything that inspires you!

A Sober St. Patrick's Day?

1907 St. Patrick's Day Parade in Ireland

Today is St. Patrick’s Day.  For some Americans, it is an excuse to get rip-roaring drunk.  Given that a high percentage of those vomiting in some toilet or alley way are in their early twenties (or younger), I think back to times in Ireland when St. Patrick’s Day was considered a Holy Day. 

The Catholic Church and the tourism officials have vacillated on this issue (“Yes: hoist the pint! or No: you can wait till after Lent.) The Irish-Americans held the first St. Patrick’s Day Parade in Manhattan in 1848, while the Irish celebrated with a parade in 1903.

It comes down to politics, really. Until the 70s, there was a ban on selling in pubs on March 17.  In 1995, the tourist industry saw new opportunities to throw open the pub doors for visitors and residents alike.

Many in Ireland observe March 17 as a Holy Day; it falls during Lent and should be give respect.

If I see one more shirt exalting the Irish and its drinking, I will also find a toilet or alley way.

Get your Irish on

I'm Irish and I love it!

Everyone is Irish!

St. Patrick's Day: a re-post

Saint Patrick's Day: At King David’s Pub and Winery

(Scene opens in Heaven, at the Pub.  Seamus and Patrick are sitting at the bar.  Patrick is asleep, with his head on the bar counter.)

Seamus (St. James):  Say, Paddy, now.  Wake up, you idjit. 

Padraig (St. Patrick)/Paddy:  Ah, Seamus.  Can ye not leave a good saint to a daecent sleep?

Seamus:  It’s yer people there, Paddy.  They’re at it again.  (Leaning over his pint, looking down on the velvet green)

Paddy:  Oh, Mother of God, is it that day already?

Maire (St. Mary):  Paddy, was it ye who called?  Oh.  (She looks down on Dublin.)  So.  Yer Irishmen are at the celebratin’ yer Holy Day.  The day ye up and died down there.

Paddy:  (Looking down) So it ‘tis, Maire.  And would ye look—Chicago has dumped green into ta rivers again!  As if that meant a ting, Lord help us.

The Lord God: (enters with angels singing and clouds billowing)  Was it ye, Paddy, that called m’name?  (Seamus and Paddy vacate their pub stools immediately.)    David, here, be a good man, and pour me a glass of cider.

King David:  Aye, My Lord.  The best Yer Hands ever made, here Ye go.  Have at it. (David pushes the glass over to God, who has settled down on a stool.)

The Lord God:  So, Paddy, what’s troublin’ ye, up here in heaven?

Paddy:  Oh, it’s the Irish people agin.  They’re after celebratin’ my holy day with all sorts of carryin’ ons.  And it bein’ Lent, ‘tis a sad ting ta behold.

The Lord God:  (quaffing a satisfying amount of apple cider) Well, ye know, Paddy,  People ha’ forgotten jest what I did for them, sendin’ ye to Ireland.  They were a terrible mean group, worshippin’ trees and such, ‘fore ye taught ‘em about the Trinity.

  

Seamus:  Yer right, My Lord.  An’ Paddy drove out them there serpents, and done all them miracles.  Ye did right good work, there.  (Seamus pats Paddy on the shoulder, who nods and perks up a bit.  Maire sits down next to The Lord God.)

The Lord God:    ‘Tis my desire that ye shake the Irish up a wee bit.  Paddy, ye go down to yer holy wells—there’s one down near Clonmel I’m partial to.  Stir the waters up a bit when there’s a group there.  And, Maire, go to some of yer holy grottoes, and send some tears down the cheeks of yer image.  That’ll make the Irish think a bit.  I bet ye’ll see more pious Irish at Mass come Good Friday.

Seamus:  I’ll go along with ‘em, My Lord, jest to keep ‘em company.  (The three saints exit.)

The Lord God:  (watches the saints depart, and laughs softly) Ah, there go some fine saints.  Glad I made ‘em.  (He leaves the pub in a cloud of glory, with angels singing.  David gathers up the glassware, and hums “When the saints go marching in…”  Scene ends.)

If I have offended any, please forgive me.  I lived in Ireland, and have a different perspective. This is a re-post from March, 2011.