No, not everyone’s Irish on St. Patrick’s Day

I have nothing against Ireland. It’s a perfectly fine land with fine people and a new dawn after years of strife.

It’s the Americans who think they’re Irish when, in fact, they’re as Irish as Paddy’s Pig.

Now, I like Guinness as much as the next Irishman, and corned beef, cabbage and potatoes makes a perfectly fine meal. But I suspect there’s a reason that U2, Sinead O’Connor and Michael Flaherty seem to spend more time in American than in Eire.

It probably is an indicator of what a fine sense of humor the Irish really have.

With ~m’s permission (I hope, since I posted it on his site first), I’d like to explain my view of Irishness in America . . . .

This is actually a true story.

I worked at a weekly newspaper some years ago as a rest tour from daily newspapering, and there was this character there who fancied himself the senior writer and arbiter of all things journalistic.
He was also quite taken with his Irish heritage, despite the fact that he was three generations removed from being a native Irishman and, if the truth be known, was probably as Irish as Paddy’s pig.
But year in and year out, this guy lectured us all at great length about how the Irish singlehandedly saved civilization as if they hotfooted it over to Alexandria, Egypt to put out the library fire and haul the contents to archival storage before scaring the Romans back south of the Apennines, interviewing every surviving Greek philosopher and getting back home in time for a big bowl of boiled potatoes. Every St. Paddy’s day, we had to endure the placement of said journalista’s annual “How the Irish Saved Western Civilization” column on top of the rest of the year’s articles on how every aspect of Appalachian culture owed its very existence to Ireland.
One day, as I was walking though the office spaces, I saw a loose thread on my shirt and muttered absentmindedly, “goddamn Irish pennant.” This was enough to get Mick Light to his feet to upbraid me about cultural unfairness and insensitivity and degrading Irish stereotypes.
Being somewhat of a cultural mutt myself (Cornish, Welsh, German, possibly Huguenot, and a genetic side trip into African and Cherokee), I simply replied . . . .
“They don’t call them Welsh pennants, do they?”

Also, catch his growing collection of Irish jokes so you’re well armed for Monday’s festivities. 

 And now, let’s enjoy one of my favorite Irish lessons – the origins of that catchy little tune Lilliburlero

Play the tune:

 http://fulham.mcframe.org/lilliburlero.wav

And sing along with meeeee . . .

Ho, brother Teague, dost hear the decree?

Lillibullero bullen a la

We are to have a new deputy

Lillibullero bullen a la

Refrain:

Lero Lero Lillibullero

Lillibullero bullen a la

Lero Lero Lero Lero

Lillibullero bullen a la

Oh by my soul it is a Talbot

Lillibullero bullen a la

And he will cut every Englishman’s throat

Lillibullero bullen a la

Refrain

Now Tyrconnell is come ashore

Lillibullero bullen a la

And we shall have commissions galore

Lillibullero bullen a la

Refrain

And everyone that won’t go to Mass

Lillibullero bullen a la

He will be turned out to look like an ass

Lillibullero bullen a la

Refrain

Now the heretics all go down

Lillibullero bullen a la

By Christ and St Patrick’s the nation’s our own

Lillibullero bullen a la

Refrain

There was an old prophecy found in a bog

Lillibullero bullen a la

The country’d be ruled by an ass and a dog

Lillibullero bullen a la

Refrain

Now this prophecy is all come to pass

Lillibullero bullen a la

For James is the dog and Tyrconnell’s the ass

Lillibullero bullen a la

Refrain

So go to McD’s and get yourself a green milkshake, or go dump a 100 gallons of green dye in some waterway, or even go make a feeble attempt at getting drunk on some cheap domestic beer dyed green. And don’t forget to wear orange on St. Paddy’s Day. It’s a lot safer than wearing black and tan . . .