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Being Irish is a true godly gift,
Barroom brawls to us a mere tift.
Yes, we talk funny and drink too often,
But even kilts canít our men soften.

We see fairies and wee little men,
You would to, drunk on a glen.
Weíre lucky bastards sober or prone,
Even without our blarney stone.

The Brits our spirits can not break,
Or our freedom much longer take.
So take up your pint with me laddie,
Itís good to be Irish, thank-you St. Paddy!

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The following comments are for "On Being Irish (March 17, 2004)"
by nelson

Some notes
Stanza II, line ii, to= too? (Wow. There were 4 to's in that sentence)Anyway, I'm quite proud of my irish-ness (irish-ocity? irishhood?) as well. This is a cute pride poem, very whimsical and fun.

( Posted by: shefallssoftly [Member] On: February 24, 2005 )

Thank you both for your comments and for taking time to read my work. Penelope, I meant no offense. I am very proud and serious about my Irish heritage. They produced some of the best poet warriors around the turn of the century. I adore all things Irish.

( Posted by: nelson [Member] On: February 24, 2005 )

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