All crowdin’ and shovin’
But always good fortune-
All smilin’ and lovin’.
May good luck be with you
Wherever you go ,
And your blessing outnumber
The shamrocks that grow.
Whenever I dream, It seems I dream
Of Erin’s rolling hills-
Of all its lovely, shimmery lakes
And little babbling rills-
I hear a colleen’s lilting laugh
Across a meadow fair
And in my dreams its almost seems
To me that I am there-
O, Ireland! O’, Ireland!
We’re Never far apart
For you and all your beauty
Fill my mind and touch my heart.
When the first light of sun-
Bless you
When the long day is done_
Bless you
In your smiles and your tears-
Bless you
Through each day of your years-
Bless you.
You’ve blessed me with friends
and laughter and fun
With rain that’s as soft
as the light from the sun-
You’ve blessed me with the stars
to brighten each night
You’ve give me help
to know wrong from right
You’ve give me so much
please, Lord give me too
A heart that is always
Grateful to you.
May you always have these
blessings…
A soft breeze when summer comes-
A warm fireside in winter-
And always- the warm, soft smile
of a friend.
May this home and all therein
be blessed with God’s love.
Christ be with me,
Christ be within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger
Christ in hearts of all that love me
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.
FROM THE BREASTPLATE OF SAINT PATRICK
Like the warmth of the sun
And the light of the day,
May the luck of the Irish
shine bright on your way.
Deep peace of the running waves
to you.
Deep peace of the flowing air to you.
Deep peace of the smiling stars to you.
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you.
Deep peace of the watching shepherds
to you.
Deep peace of the Son of Peace to you
AN OLD GAELIC PRAYER
Grant me a send of humor, Lord,
the saving grace to see a joke,
To win some happiness from life,
And pass it on to other folks.
From the great Gales of Ireland
Are the men that God made mad,
for all their wars are merry
And all their songs are sad.
G.K. CHESTERTON
May the lilt of Irish laughter
Lighten every load,
May the mist of Irish magic
Shorten every road,
May you taste the sweetest pleasures
That fortune ere bestowed,
And may all your friends remember.
All the favors you are owed.
May you be half an hour in Heaven
Before the Devil knows you’re dead.
O, Ireland isn’t it grand you look-
Like a bride in her rich adornin’
And with all the pent-up love of
my heart
I bid you the top o’ the mornin’.
JOHN LOCKE