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Order here: https://www.bladeforums.com/help/2024-traditional/ - Order as many as you like, we have plenty.
Happy St Patrick's Day
- Thread starter Nasty
- Start date
- Joined
- Jan 30, 2002
- Messages
- 7,269
On St. Patrick's Day, which falls during the Christian season of Lent, Irish families would traditionally attend church in the morning and celebrate in the afternoon. Lenten prohibitions against the consumption of meat were waived and people would dance, drink, and feaston the traditional meal of Irish bacon and cabbage. (Corned beef is not common in Ireland.)
The first St. Patrick's Day parade took place not in Ireland, but in the United States. Irish soldiers serving in the English military marched through New York City on March 17, 1762. Along with their music, the parade helped the soldiers to reconnect with their Irish roots, as well as fellow Irishmen serving in the English army.
Over the next thirty-five years, Irish patriotism among American immigrants flourished, prompting the rise of so-called "Irish Aid" societies, like the Friendly Sons of Saint Patrick and the Hibernian Society. Each group would hold annual parades featuring bagpipes (which actually first became popular in the Scottish and British armies) and drums.
No Irish Need Apply
Up until the mid-nineteenth century, most Irish immigrants in America were members of the Protestant middle class. When the Great Potato Famine hit Ireland in 1845, close to a million poor, uneducated, Catholic Irish began to pour into America to escape starvation. Despised for their religious beliefs and funny accents by the American Protestant majority, the immigrants had trouble finding even menial jobs. When Irish Americans in the country 's cities took to the streets on St. Patrick's Day to celebrate their heritage, newspapers portrayed them in cartoons as drunk, violent monkeys.
However, the Irish soon began to realize that their great numbers endowed them with a political power that had yet to be exploited. They started to organize, and their voting block, known as the "green machine," became an important swing vote for political hopefuls. Suddenly, annual St. Patrick's Day parades became a show of strength for Irish Americans, as well as a must-attend event for a slew of political candidates. In 1948, President Truman attended New York City 's St. Patrick's Day parade, a proud moment for the many Irish whose ancestors had to fight stereotypes and racial prejudice to find acceptance in America.
The first St. Patrick's Day parade took place not in Ireland, but in the United States. Irish soldiers serving in the English military marched through New York City on March 17, 1762. Along with their music, the parade helped the soldiers to reconnect with their Irish roots, as well as fellow Irishmen serving in the English army.
Over the next thirty-five years, Irish patriotism among American immigrants flourished, prompting the rise of so-called "Irish Aid" societies, like the Friendly Sons of Saint Patrick and the Hibernian Society. Each group would hold annual parades featuring bagpipes (which actually first became popular in the Scottish and British armies) and drums.
No Irish Need Apply
Up until the mid-nineteenth century, most Irish immigrants in America were members of the Protestant middle class. When the Great Potato Famine hit Ireland in 1845, close to a million poor, uneducated, Catholic Irish began to pour into America to escape starvation. Despised for their religious beliefs and funny accents by the American Protestant majority, the immigrants had trouble finding even menial jobs. When Irish Americans in the country 's cities took to the streets on St. Patrick's Day to celebrate their heritage, newspapers portrayed them in cartoons as drunk, violent monkeys.
However, the Irish soon began to realize that their great numbers endowed them with a political power that had yet to be exploited. They started to organize, and their voting block, known as the "green machine," became an important swing vote for political hopefuls. Suddenly, annual St. Patrick's Day parades became a show of strength for Irish Americans, as well as a must-attend event for a slew of political candidates. In 1948, President Truman attended New York City 's St. Patrick's Day parade, a proud moment for the many Irish whose ancestors had to fight stereotypes and racial prejudice to find acceptance in America.
- Joined
- Oct 19, 2005
- Messages
- 19,761
Happy SPD boys. I'll raise a beer to you all this evening. Althouth I doubt it'll be green. I'm quite a homebody you know, and my girls keep my life simple. I'll definitely hoist a Pale Ale and think of the cantina though.
- Joined
- Aug 26, 2005
- Messages
- 4,106
May the road rise up to meet you.
(but not too hard)
May the wind be always at your back.
(especially when eating cabbage)
The rain falls soft upon your head.
(Martha, get the damned roof fixed)
And until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand.
(Gently Lord, gently )
-Irish blessing
Tis a fine day to be of the green ,
May your pipes and beer be sweet .
May you have a song in your feet .
(but not too hard)
May the wind be always at your back.
(especially when eating cabbage)
The rain falls soft upon your head.
(Martha, get the damned roof fixed)
And until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand.
(Gently Lord, gently )
-Irish blessing
Tis a fine day to be of the green ,
May your pipes and beer be sweet .
May you have a song in your feet .
- Joined
- May 9, 2002
- Messages
- 12,677
My favorite Irish toast/blessing:
May those who love us, love us.
And for those who don't love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if he can not turn their hearts,
May he turn their ankles,
So we may know them by their limping.
May you live as long as you want, and never want as long as you live.
Kind, warm, but in a take-no-$h|t way
If ya all be drinkin any fine beer tahday, you'll be findin' the good stuff won't be turnin' green no matter how much colorin' ya add
Jake
May those who love us, love us.
And for those who don't love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if he can not turn their hearts,
May he turn their ankles,
So we may know them by their limping.
May you live as long as you want, and never want as long as you live.
Kind, warm, but in a take-no-$h|t way
If ya all be drinkin any fine beer tahday, you'll be findin' the good stuff won't be turnin' green no matter how much colorin' ya add
Jake
- Joined
- Jun 4, 2002
- Messages
- 3,930
ERIN GO BRAGH, er, uh, Git 'er done!! 
Sarge
Sarge
- Joined
- Aug 17, 2003
- Messages
- 3,409
Millie is irish born & bred, did her first 19 races in dublin.
She just barked "Erin go bragh" at us.
_______________________________________________________________
CAVE CANEM ET SEMPER PARATUS
Dic, hospes Spartae nos te hic vidisse iacentes,
Dum sanctis patriae legibus obsequimur
If they don't want me to eat animals - why do they make them out of MEAT?
She just barked "Erin go bragh" at us.
_______________________________________________________________
CAVE CANEM ET SEMPER PARATUS
Dic, hospes Spartae nos te hic vidisse iacentes,
Dum sanctis patriae legibus obsequimur
If they don't want me to eat animals - why do they make them out of MEAT?
Sid Mil Faich (a hundered thousand welcomes)
"They were portrayed in cartoons as drunk, violent monkeys"
Sterotypes are terrible, but today is a day to celebrate stereotypes ( at leaste one). I am not normaly a drunk violent monkey, but today I plan on it, maybe not the violent part but definatly drunk and monkey.
"They were portrayed in cartoons as drunk, violent monkeys"
Sterotypes are terrible, but today is a day to celebrate stereotypes ( at leaste one). I am not normaly a drunk violent monkey, but today I plan on it, maybe not the violent part but definatly drunk and monkey.
- Joined
- Aug 26, 2005
- Messages
- 4,106
Personally I,m gonna walk the dog down to the store and pick up the tiniest bottle of good Irish whiskey . Funny thing ,I,m not particularly fond of whiskey that tastes like whiskey . It has to fairly refined . I appreciate a good bottle of Tequila or mescal upon a very rare occasion . There are times when I would rather be seduced by a delicate peaty flavor . Any of you guys got a suggestion . It has to be available at your average liquor store and not be 42 bucks a bottle .
- Joined
- Jul 30, 2004
- Messages
- 3,833
http://www.ireland-information.com/downloads/midi/thefoggydew.mid
The Foggy Dew
'Twas down the glen one Easter morn
To a city fair rode I.
When Ireland's line of marching men
In squadrons passed me by.
No pipe did hum, no battle drum
Did sound its dread tattoo
But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey's swell
Rang out in the foggy dew.
Right proudly high over Dublin town
They flung out a flag of war.
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky
Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar.
And from the plains of Royal Meath
Strong men came hurrying through;
While Britannia's sons with their long-range guns
Sailed in through the foggy dew.
Oh, the night fell black and the rifles crack
Made "Perfidious Albion" reel
'Mid the leaden rail, seven tongues of flame
Did shine o'er the lines of steel
By each shining blade, a prayer was said
That to Ireland her sons be true
And when morning broke still the war flag shook
Out its fold in the Foggy Dew.
'Twas England bade our Wild Geese go
That small nations might be free
But their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves
or the fringe of the grey North Sea
Oh had they died by Pearse's side,
or had fought with Cathal Brugha
Their graves we'd keep where the Fenians sleep,
'neath the shroud of the Foggy Dew.
But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide
In the springing of the year
And the world did gaze, with deep amaze,
At those fearless men and true
Who bore the fight that freedom's light
Might shine through the Foggy Dew.
Ah, back through the glen I rode again,
And my heart with grief was sore
For I parted then with valiant men
Whom I never shall see more
But to and fro in my dreams I go
And I'd kneel and pray for you
For slavery fled, O glorious dead,
When you fell in the Foggy Dew.
If you liked that, I'll give you an encore:
The Risin' O' The Moon
"Tell me, tell me, Sean O'Farrell,
tell me why you hurry so?"
"Hush mavoughal, hush and listen,"
and his face was all aglow
"I bear orders from the captain,
get you ready quick and soon
With your pike upon your shoulder
for the rising of the moon"
"Tell me, tell me, Sean O'Farrell,
where the gatherin' is to be?"
"Near the old spot by the river,
right well known to you and me"
"One more thing, the signal token?"
"Whistle up the marching tune
For our pikes must be together
by the rising of the moon"
Out from many a mud-walled cabin,
eyes were lookin' through the night
Many a manly heart was throbin'
for the blessed morning light
A cry arose along the river,
like some banshee's mournful croon
And a thousand pikes were flashing
by the rising of the moon
All along the shining river
one black mass of men was seen
And above them in the night wind
floated our immortal green
Death to every foe and traitor.
Onward, strike the marching tune
And hurrah me boys for freedom,
it's the rising of the moon
Well they fought for dear old Ireland,
and full bitter was their fate,
Oh what glorious pride and sorrow
fills the name of ninety-eight.
But thank God e'en now are beating hearts
in mankind's burning noon,
Who will follow in their footsteps,
at the rising of the moon.
Who's for an HI Pike now!
With an Ash handle and a bit of redcoat stuck to it!
Sorry I can't buy you guys a round, but the drinks were on me for too long. So here's a toast:
Ireland forever!
Mike
The Foggy Dew
'Twas down the glen one Easter morn
To a city fair rode I.
When Ireland's line of marching men
In squadrons passed me by.
No pipe did hum, no battle drum
Did sound its dread tattoo
But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey's swell
Rang out in the foggy dew.
Right proudly high over Dublin town
They flung out a flag of war.
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky
Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar.
And from the plains of Royal Meath
Strong men came hurrying through;
While Britannia's sons with their long-range guns
Sailed in through the foggy dew.
Oh, the night fell black and the rifles crack
Made "Perfidious Albion" reel
'Mid the leaden rail, seven tongues of flame
Did shine o'er the lines of steel
By each shining blade, a prayer was said
That to Ireland her sons be true
And when morning broke still the war flag shook
Out its fold in the Foggy Dew.
'Twas England bade our Wild Geese go
That small nations might be free
But their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves
or the fringe of the grey North Sea
Oh had they died by Pearse's side,
or had fought with Cathal Brugha
Their graves we'd keep where the Fenians sleep,
'neath the shroud of the Foggy Dew.
But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide
In the springing of the year
And the world did gaze, with deep amaze,
At those fearless men and true
Who bore the fight that freedom's light
Might shine through the Foggy Dew.
Ah, back through the glen I rode again,
And my heart with grief was sore
For I parted then with valiant men
Whom I never shall see more
But to and fro in my dreams I go
And I'd kneel and pray for you
For slavery fled, O glorious dead,
When you fell in the Foggy Dew.
If you liked that, I'll give you an encore:
The Risin' O' The Moon
"Tell me, tell me, Sean O'Farrell,
tell me why you hurry so?"
"Hush mavoughal, hush and listen,"
and his face was all aglow
"I bear orders from the captain,
get you ready quick and soon
With your pike upon your shoulder
for the rising of the moon"
"Tell me, tell me, Sean O'Farrell,
where the gatherin' is to be?"
"Near the old spot by the river,
right well known to you and me"
"One more thing, the signal token?"
"Whistle up the marching tune
For our pikes must be together
by the rising of the moon"
Out from many a mud-walled cabin,
eyes were lookin' through the night
Many a manly heart was throbin'
for the blessed morning light
A cry arose along the river,
like some banshee's mournful croon
And a thousand pikes were flashing
by the rising of the moon
All along the shining river
one black mass of men was seen
And above them in the night wind
floated our immortal green
Death to every foe and traitor.
Onward, strike the marching tune
And hurrah me boys for freedom,
it's the rising of the moon
Well they fought for dear old Ireland,
and full bitter was their fate,
Oh what glorious pride and sorrow
fills the name of ninety-eight.
But thank God e'en now are beating hearts
in mankind's burning noon,
Who will follow in their footsteps,
at the rising of the moon.
Who's for an HI Pike now!
With an Ash handle and a bit of redcoat stuck to it!
Sorry I can't buy you guys a round, but the drinks were on me for too long. So here's a toast:
Ireland forever!
Mike
- Joined
- Jun 4, 2002
- Messages
- 3,930
Kevin the grey said:
Bushmills, good stuff, so smooth and easy you can sip it like iced tea. Just don't sip too much or you will see the wee folk.
Sarge