What Shall I Say About the Irish?
The utterly impractical, never predictable,
Sometimes irascible, quite inexplicable, Irish.
Strange blend of shyness,
pride and conceit,
And stubborn refusal to bow in defeat.
He's spoiling and ready to argue and fight,
Yet the smile of a child
fills his soul with delight.
His eyes are the quickest to well up with tears,
Yet his strength is the strongest
to banish your fears.
His hate is as fierce as his devotion is grand,
And there is no middle ground
on which he will stand.
He's wild and he's gentle,
he's good and he's bad.
He's proud and he's humble,
he's happy and sad.
He's in love with the ocean,
the earth and the skies,
He's enamoured with beauty wherever it lies.
He's victor and victim, a star and a clod,
But mostly he's Irish—
in love with his God.
Although I have Irish blood, living across from an Irish pub has certainly made me dislike St. Patty's Day. But I must thank our wonderful Gloucester City Police for being a real presence last night in the area surrounding Oh! Hara's. They were constantly driving around the streets and through the parking lot. I was very happy about that! Last year my neighbor had her car smashed in by one of the partyers. So, thank you to our fine officers for making what could have been a loud and irritating night a peaceful one!
Posted by: Paula Conroy | March 18, 2008 at 12:14 PM
I though St. Patty's Day was about going out and drinking all day.
Posted by: a bag pipe piper | March 17, 2008 at 03:15 PM
It is three grandparents I have that were born in Ireland. Grand people we all are. Let me have a bit to express. All God' s people remain quite connected. Though proud I am to be Irish --I am most proud to be a free American.
Posted by: Catherine Gottert | March 17, 2008 at 01:41 PM