Hello, my name is Chris, and I’m not Irish. My ancestors are from the isles, but they never did call the white-foamed cliffs or the emerald fields of Ireland their home. I know, I’m sorry – but now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, allow me to add that I appreciate a good St. Patty’s as much as anyone. Started my day off right, with a fine play list taking us from as far off as the raging typical St. Patty’s tunes of Flogging Molly and Dropkick Murphys, through the Dubliners and Stephen Lynch and even a touch of Buck O Nine, between more traditional bits.
Outside, the day is already surrendered to the sound and the sight of the drink on campus – Frat Row, as it is called, has already got their beer pong tables set up, as usual, and I’m sure anything with pub or anything vaguely Irish in its name will be roaring with business all day. The weather couldn’t be better – 60s in Michigan in March, for St. Patty’s? Yes, please – and I am in a fantastic mood. I wrote and I danced, and you know what else? I worked up a little poem for you all, and I do hope you enjoy.
A shamrock lies between us.
The grievances of history
Balanced on the tips of leaves
Are swallowed in green beer
To high tide tunes of fiddlers
Passing in the night
Where love and lust are staggering
With dignity and design—
They say as much to Mr. Jameson
As they pour a little more cream,
Pondering the existential implications
Of the girls in their shortest skirts
Swaying and serenading
The Dance.
(All images care of Google – thanks Google search!)
Edit: And also to note – it is my good pleasure to announce that today is also my dear friend Kila’s (Willowwish) birthday! Happy Birthday Kila! And in the travesty of all travesties, she has to spend it AND St. Patty’s day mired in class…oh dears.
The Waking Den 