Saint Patrick’s Day

The Irish Connection is a good one within my family and very good friends.

Saint Patrick’s Day is Sunday. It is the day supposedly everyone is Irish. It rings true to me since there is a predominance of Irish blood that runs through my veins or should I say, “me veins”.

A number of my Celtic ancestors came from the old sod during the potato famine of the mid eighteen hundreds and established roots in Canada and the New England states.

I don’t know much about those folks or their needed escape from famine and oppression, but I do know the stories of mirth and woe from songs that my Mother would play on the piano and the family would sing when I was young.

A few years ago I spent some time in Ireland, not as a tourist for I had done that on other travels, but as a resident in one place so I could experience the Irish life. The result was expressed in poetry. Here is one expression.


© 2006 Rolland G. Smith


Much pain was felt before the joy

As history will attest.

Old Ireland’s memory does employ

A hunger all detest.


But now the Irish share their mirth

With Emerald green and mist.

T’was not the land of “me own birth,”

But tis a land I’ve kissed.


I’ve come to see and be as one

With the Irish spirit.

It’s there I know, it’s halcyon

Listen and you’ll hear it.


It comes from harps and leprechauns

And pipsiewaggins too.

It comes from tunes from vagabonds;

The gypsies traveling through.


I smell the peat smoke wafting pass

The green grass scented air.

Reminding me of Erin’s past

And Celtic colleens fair.


The rainy mist has finally gone

And I can see the sun.

With feathers dried and birds in song

The damp is finally done.


Though fair, this day, a chilly one

Set high along the coast.

The cragged rocks today’s dolmen

Is nature’s mark to toast.


But in this land forever green

The mist is part of her.

Tis here that I have keenly seen

The sun to rain defer.


Happy Saint Patrick’s day to all.



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