Nothing Sheepish About The Irish

Irish She Is

A bit of Heaven, The Irish Way

a strange blend of shyness, pride, and conceit,

and a stubborn refusal to bow in defeat,

she is mollycoddled and ready to anger and fight,

yet the smile of a child fills her soul with delight,

her eyes are the quickest to well up in tears,

yet her strength is the strongest to banish your fears,

her contempt is as fearless as her devotion is grand,

and there’s no middle ground on which she stands,

she’s wild and she’s gentle, she’s good and she’s bad,

she’s proud and humble, she’s happy and sad,

she’s in love with the ocean, the earth, the skies,

she’s enamored with beauty wherever it lies,

she’s victor and victim, a star and a cloud,

but most of all she’s Irish, and in love with her God.

Though I am old, I shall wander through her hollows, hill land, as a golden rind of sand parts slipshod from the sea to solid land, and in a while, I should hold her hand as I stand on the roadway or cobblestone of pavement grey.

May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face; the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of his hand. 

I love having just a wee bit of Irish running through my veins! It makes me green with envy!

Ireland’s charm never had to do with its flair; it was the provincial charm of its people that endeared Ireland to the world. A rough jewel yes — but oh so beautiful!

The heart and soul of Ireland has always been it’s people, their genetic coding is distinctly “Irish”. Their desire to be “Irish” is in most cases “essential” to their sense of belonging on this Earth. A sense of Place, a sense of Origin, a sense of Pride.

“And the rest of the day to yourself”

Blessings dear friends,