Today is my Mom's favorite holiday. Her theory is that St. Paddy's Day is the only holiday that nobody expects anything from you. As I try to corral the masses (as a result of not getting my ass out of bed until ten minutes before this train wreck was under way), My mother called with her yearly serenade.
O Paddy dear, and did ye hear the news that's goin' round?
The shamrock is by law forbid to grow on Irish ground!
No more Saint Patrick's Day we'll keep, his color can't be seen
For there's a cruel law ag'in the Wearin' o' the Green."
I met with Napper Tandy, and he took me by the hand,
And he said, "How's poor ould Ireland, and how does she stand?"
"She's the most distressful country that ever yet was seen,
For they're hanging men and women there for the Wearin' o' the Green."
I forced Lucy to untuck her shirt, administered some hair bows, snapped some photos and I fled out the door.
O Paddy dear, and did ye hear the news that's goin' round?
The shamrock is by law forbid to grow on Irish ground!
No more Saint Patrick's Day we'll keep, his color can't be seen
For there's a cruel law ag'in the Wearin' o' the Green."
I met with Napper Tandy, and he took me by the hand,
And he said, "How's poor ould Ireland, and how does she stand?"
"She's the most distressful country that ever yet was seen,
For they're hanging men and women there for the Wearin' o' the Green."
I forced Lucy to untuck her shirt, administered some hair bows, snapped some photos and I fled out the door.
No comments:
Post a Comment