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IRISH FOLK CULTURE PAGE
Drink is the curse of the land. It makes you fight with your neighbour. It makes you shoot at your landlord-- and it makes you miss him.
If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at who He gives it to!
There never was the worse use made of a man than to hang him.
No man ever wore a scarf as warm as his daughter’s arm around his neck.
A family of Irish birth will argue and fight,
but let a shout come from without,
and see them all unite.
An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy which sustains him through temporary periods of joy.
The Irish are a fair people; they never speak well of one another. —Samuel Johnson 1709-1784
The Irish forgive their great men when they are safely buried.
You can accomplish more with a kind word and a shillelagh than you can with just a kind word.
In every land, hardness is in the north of it, softness in the south, industry in the east, and fire and inspiration in the west.
of a useless fellow
He's fit to mind mice at a crossroads.
to someone who committed some small fault
'Tis only a stepmother would blame you.’
of a tall, large woman
That's a fine doorful of a woman.
of a gossiper
She has a tongue that would clip a hedge.
of a poor, thin creature
The breath is only just in and out of him, and the grass doesn't know of him walking over it.
of a coarse, ill-mannered person using poor language
What would you expect out of a pig but a grunt?
on trying to change a stubborn person's mind
You might as well be whistling jigs to a milestone.
of very bad music
Aw, that's the tune the old cow died of.
of one who overstays their welcome
If that man went to a wedding, he'd stay for the christening.
of a talkative person
That man would talk the teeth out of a saw.
of a person who paid too much for a cow
He bought every hair in her tail.
of a clever thief
He'd steal the sugar out of your punch.
in praise of strong whiskey
I felt it like a torchlight procession going down my throat.
said of a woman who had made a bad marriage
She burnt her coal and did not warm herself.
of bad aim in shooting
He wouldn't hit a hole in a ladder.
of an impish child
That one suffers from a double dose of original sin.
of an unfortunate one
He is always in the field when luck is on the road.
of very wet weather
It's a fine day for young ducks.
of someone who always plans carefully
If he's not fishing he's mending his nets.
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Irish Toasts
Irish Blessings and Prayers
Irish Proverbs in English
Irish / English Proverbs
IRISH SAYINGS
Some Irish Wit & Wisdom...

Irish Diplomacy...
is the ability to tell a man to go to hell so that he looks forward to making the trip.
The Mouse on the Barroom Floor
Some Guinness was spilled on the barroom floor
when the pub was shut for the night.
Out of his hole crept a wee brown mouse
and stood in the pale moonlight.
He lapped up the frothy brew from the floor,
then back on his haunches he sat.
And all night long you could hear him roar,
'Bring on the goddam cat!'
An Irishman's Philosophy
In life, there are only two things to worry about—
Either you are well or you are sick.

If you are well, there is nothing to worry about,

But if you are sick, there are only two things to worry about—
Either you will get well or you will die.
If you get well, there is nothing to worry about,

But if you die, there are only two things to worry about—
Either you will go to heaven or hell.

If you go to heaven, there is nothing to worry about.

And if you go to hell, you’ll be so busy shaking hands with all your friends
You won’t have time to worry!

The Way We Tell a Story (Pat McCarty 1851-1931)
Says I to him, I says, says I,
Says I to him, I says,
The thing, says I, I says to him,
Is just, says I, this ways.
I hev', says I, a gret respeck
For you and for your breed,
And onything I could, I says,
I'd do, I wud indeed.
I don't know any man, I says,
I'd do it for, says I,
As fast, I says, as for yoursel',
That's tellin' ye no lie.
There's nought, says I, I wudn't do
To plase your feyther's son,
But this, I says, ye see, says I,
I says, it can't be done.
Murphy's Law
Nothing is as easy as it looks.
Everything takes longer than you expect.
And if anything can go wrong,
It will, at the worst possible moment.
Legend of Saint Patrick
Good St. Patrick travelled far, to teach God's Holy Word
And when he came to Erin's sod, a wondrous thing occurred
He plucked a shamrock from the earth and held it in His hand
To symbolise the Trinity that all might understand
The first leaf for the Father
And the second for the Son
The third leaf for the Holy Spirit
All three of them in one.
Remembered Joy
Don't grieve for me, for now I'm free!
I follow the plan God laid for me.
I saw His face, I heard His call,
I took His hand and left it all...
I could not stay another day,
To love, to laugh, to work or play;
Tasks left undone must stay that way.
And if my parting has left a void,
Then fill it with remembered joy.
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss...
Ah yes, these things I, too, shall miss.
My life's been full, I've savoured much:
Good times, good friends, a loved-one's touch.
Perhaps my time seemed all too brief—
Don't shorten yours with undue grief.
Be not burdened with tears of sorrow,
Enjoy the sunshine of the morrow.
Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there... I do not sleep.
I am the thousand winds that blow...
I am the diamond glints on snow...
I am the sunlight on ripened grain...
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you waken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of gentle birds in circling flight...
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry—
I am not there... I did not die...
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.
The Irish...
Be they kings, or poets, or farmers,
They're a people of great worth,
They keep company with the angels,
And bring a bit of heaven here to earth
An Irish Welcome
Here's Céad Míle Fáilte to friend and to rover
That's a greeting that's Irish as Irish can be
It means you are welcome
A thousand times over
Wherever you come from, Whosoever you be
Irish Men
There are only three kinds of Irish men who can't understand women— young men, old men, and men of middle age.
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