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Happy St. Patrick’s Day! Share your St. Patrick’s Day Poetry in the comments section below. While writing and posting, enjoy an Irish medley of songs, “Chief O Neil’s” followed by “The Red-Haired boy,” performed by Jeff Eardley. Also enjoy the image above suggested by Roy E. Peterson. Thank you, chaps!
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Thanks so much for your comment, Theresa. My lines are heroic couplets for a young hero, but I did split…
Well I am primed now to at least try to make some kind of mead at home-- maybe I can…
Well Margaret, I took your advice and checked Amazon and, lo and behold! there are tons of mead-making kits, averaging…
All you need are honey, water, and yeast -- but to make the really good stuff the process is lengthy…
I was going to suggest that mead is most likely to be available at Christmas time--but I went shopping and…
Jeff, You have a splendid talent and I thank you for sharing it on this auspicious occasion. I recall hearing “Chief O’Neil’s” performed in a Dingle pub on a visit to Ireland in 2019. I can’t say that I enjoyed it any more than I did your recording!
In any case, here is my contribution in honor of my own family ties with the Jameson family in Dublin–unfortunately of no known relation with the whisky distillers with the same name.
My great-grandmother left Hibernia
She sailed first to New York City, then
By train to Berkeley, California
And never saw her native land again.
Her given name was Susan Jameson, a sweet
Colleen from Dublin when she moved away.
Her father had a shop on Grafton Street.
The clocks he made are still well-known today.
In Berkeley she fell in love and wed
A lawyer for (and friend of) H.J. Heinz.
By them my grandmother was born and bred
Which makes me Irish from these family lines.
The thing that’s strange is that we’ve yet to find
Out why she left the Emerald Isle behind.
I agree on Jeff’s talent and appreciate the music. James, you are so fortunate to know that much about an Irish ancestor. All I know about mine is her name was Susan Clark. She married into my mother’s side of the family (Warburton). My mother told me about her once upon a St. Patrick’s Day, but that is all she knew.
Roy, thanks for your comment and for all the verse today. I agree with Susan on your excellent picture. I have no Irish blood, not that I am aware of, but I was in awe of Irish band, “Planxty” when I saw them live in the 70’s and have been a fan of Irish music ever since. Hope you are raising a glass yourself this evening.
James, thanks for your kind words and your family story which I read with great interest. I guess you must have a trace of Mixolydian DNA which explains your own musical prowess. Cheif O’ Neil was quite a character and after his Chicago cop career ended, he created the city’s connection with Ireland which endures to this day. O’ Neils “Music of Ireland” has been on my bookshelf for decades. I hope you are celebrating with a parting glass or two today.
Jeff, the music is wonderful, and Roy, the accompanying picture is perfect. Thank you for adding to the joy of St. Patrick’s Day.
TWO HISTORICAL POEMS
ST. PATRICK’S DAY CELEBRATION CHANGES
By Roy E. Peterson (February 22, 2022)
The color for St. Patrick
Was once a different hue.
Shamrock green has since replaced
The color, which was blue.
Corned beef and cabbage are
Now eaten on that day
Replacing Irish bacon,
Since it’s cheaper, so they say.
The first St. Patrick’s Day parade
Was not in Ireland.
It was in America where
The first parade was grand.
These are three of the traditions
That have changed the Irish scene.
The greatest of them all
Is the wearing of the green.
HISTORY OF GREEN BEER
By Roy E. Peterson (February 22, 2022)
Everything is dyed green
On St. Patrick’s Day
From the Chicago River
To the Hudson Bay.
The first green beer appeared
At a Bronx social club.
Now the beer appears
At every Irish pub.
The year was 1914,
And a coroner named Curtin
Unveiled the first green beer.
That history is certain.
He said he used a drop of poison
Known as wash blue
To change beer to the color shamrock
For the Irish brew.
On St. Patrick’s Day
The Irish men are crowing
In some Irish pub
Where the green beer is flowing.
LIMERICKS FOR ST. PATRICK’S DAY
By Roy E. Peterson (February 16, 2022)
HE TOOK A BATH
By Roy E. Peterson (February 16, 2022)
There once was a young Irish bloke
Who climbed in the bathtub to soak.
He filled it with beer
Clear up to his ear.
It cost far too much now he’s broke.
THE HAYMOW
By Roy E. Peterson (February 16, 2022)
A young lad on St. Patrick’s Day
Went out for a roll in the hay.
As he climbed the haymow,
He was hit by a cow.
The lass wasn’t there anyway.
THE HAYLOFT
By Roy E. Peterson (February 16, 2022)
A second lad on St. Patrick’s Day
Went for a roll in the hay.
Approaching the loft,
He stepped in something soft.
The cow did not mind anyway.
THE LEPRECHAUN’S GOLD
By Roy E. Peterson (February 16, 2022)
The leprechaun’s gold in the pot
Expanded from getting too hot.
It rolled down the hill
To the townspeople’s thrill.
The leprechaun lost quite a lot.
FRANKIE AND JOHNNY
By Roy E. Peterson (February 16, 2022)
Johnny had a strange girl in his room.
Frankie hit him and sealed his doom.
She caught him there
In his underwear.
He died wearing his Fruit of the Loom.
PATRICK O’ROURKE
By Roy E. Peterson (February 16, 2022)
An Irishman, Patrick O’Rourke
His home duties started to shirk.
His wife in her frock
Then cleaned his clock.
Now nothing of Patrick’s will work.
JUST ONE BEER
By Roy E. Peterson (February 21, 2022)
The Irishman asked for one beer.
He said, “You can put it in here.”
He pulled up a keg
And said. “Fill ‘er up Meg.”
Now he is drunk on his ear.
GRADY MCKELLAR
By Roy E. Peterson (February 21, 2022)
An Irishman Grady McKellar
Was a lazy sort of a fellar.
He climbed up the stairs
That needed repairs
And now he is down in the cellar.
HOT BRAND FLAMING STAR
By Roy E. Peterson (February 23, 2022)
Gil Brand got a new racing car.
He claimed he would win and by far.
The engine caught fire
As he raced for the wire.
They call him “Brand new flaming star.”
LEROY THE LUCKY LEPRECHAUN
By Roy E. Peterson (March 17, 2013)
Leroy the lucky leprechaun
Never slept in bed.
His pillow was a shamrock pile
Where he laid his head.
He carried a shillelagh
Made from a briar root.
As Irish tell the story,
He was a tricky coot.
Leprechauns are three feet high
And difficult to see.
The Irish blame the leprechaun
For impish deviltry.
Leroy liked to sneak into
A house and eat the pie,
Then drink up all the milk he found
Before he said goodbye.
A cook could turn her back
And her pot would boil over.
Beside the pot most like as not
Would be a four leaf clover.
Sometimes he’d move the furniture,
Sometimes he’d scare the cat.
But no one ever saw him,
Or knew where he was at.
Don’t ever make him angry,
Or else he would be crude.
No table scraps for Leroy,
Just set aside some food.
A curse you never wanted
Upon your house or pet.
Or else the roof might spring a leak
And all would end up wet.
Leprechauns are bachelors
And just like any man
They’re happiest when eating
Or drinking from a can.
They have a taste for beauty
And often come at night
Into a lassie’s bedroom
And watch her by moonlight.
Because of all his riches,
The fairy mothers tried
To have him take in marriage
A pretty fairy bride.
But Leroy knew their magic
And Leroy knew their spells
He stayed away from fairy glens
And fairy wishing wells.
Leroy loved the lassies
And frequented the pub.
O’Malley was the barkeep
At Dan McGinty’s club.
He’d hide behind a barrel,
Then jump up in a chair
And kiss the blushing maidens
While playing with their hair.
Leroy had a pot o’ gold
Sometimes he’d have to tend,
Because the hiding place was shown
By rainbows at their end.
If you can catch a leprechaun
And keep him in a hold,
He has to give you riches
And give you all his gold.
O’Malley thought he had him
Caught behind O’Grady Hill.
He grabbed him drinking from a keg
Where he had built a still.
Leroy told O’Malley,
“If you will wait right here,
I’ll go and get the gold for ye
And riches never fear.’
O’Malley let old Leroy loose
To share with him his money.
Leroy quickly walked away
And thought it extra funny.
He picked up kegs of whiskey
And laughed for seven days.
O’Malley has not seen a cent,
Since Leroy ran away.
Poet Note: This poem was written from researched Irish traditions.
WHEN IRISH EYES ARE SMILING
Set of Limericks
By Roy E. Peterson (March 17, 2018)
When Irish eyes are smiling,
Her beauty is so beguiling,
But you better beware,
She still has red hair,
And you better stop any lying.
When Irish eyes are on fire,
Try the tactic of Barry O’Guire.
Quick close the door,
And run for the shore.
Then hide in the muck and the mire.
When Irish eyes are crying,
Someone is going to be dying.
You hope it’s not you,
But what can you do?
You’re safe until dishes start flying.
When Irish eyes are twinkling,
You never know what she’s thinking.
If you made a mistake,
She is planning your wake.
So, you better stop drinking.
Poet Note: With apologies to the beautiful song!
Thanks, Mr. Eardley, Mr. Tweedie, and Col. Peterson, for the day’s entertainment. Roy, you have been working long and hard at Irish pieces, and seem to have hit a speedy spot when you came upon the limerick!
Thanks for your comment Margaret. I hope you had a happy time yesterday. It’s all doom over here at the moment.
Thank you, Jeff, for these great tunes! My grandmother’s maiden name is O’Brien, but her father was an orphan, and I don’t know if the Irish name is biological or adopted. When I listen to Irish music, though, I usually feel sure it’s biological.
Here’s one of my favorite Irish poems (NOT of my own composing!) by W.B. Yeats:
Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
Jack, a beautiful poem, thank you for bringing it to my attention. Irish music for me was always Planxty and the Chieftains back in the 70’s. In modern times, we have the amazing Transatlantic sessions. Best wishes and good luck with your career. You have a priceless talent.
Jeff, your musical talent shines through. Roy’s limericks and fitting choice of picture add an extra layer of enjoyment to the day.
Here goes my limerick following the green theme:
A Fitting Complexion
An Irishman on Patrick’s Day
Put ten pints of Guinness away
Until he turned green
As the fields of Drumsheen —
In line with tradition, I’d say!
David, an Irish friend of mine on holiday in Texas was told that a guy on a bar stool was famous Texan, “Red Adair.” He approached him to buy him a drink with, “ Hello Red, and how is Ginger Rogers?”
I can feel the groans from this side of the globe.
Best wishes my friend and hope you had a good one.