Slainte go saol agat,
Bean ar do mhian agat.
Leanbh gach blian agat,
is solas na bhflaitheas tareis antsail seo agat.–
Health for life to you,
A wife of your choice to you,
A child every year to you,
And the light of heaven after this world for you.
If you’re enough lucky to be Irish…
You’re lucky enough!
Here’s to a long life and a merry one
A quick death and an easy one
A pretty girl and an honest one
A cold beer and another one!
May the Good Lord take a liking to you,
… but not too soon!
May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face.
And rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.
May you be in Heaven a full half hour before the Devil knows you’re dead.
May you live all the days of your life.
May you live as long as you want,
And never want as long as you live.
May you live as long as
There are many good reasons for drinking,
One has just entered my head.
If a man doesn’t drink when he’s living,
How in the hell can he drink when he’s dead?
Sliocht sleachta ar shliocht bhur sleachta —
May your children’s children have children.
May your neighbors respect you,
Troubles neglect you,
The angels protect you,
And Heaven accept you.
Only Irish coffee provides in a single glass all four essential food groups: alcohol, caffeine, sugar, and fat.
O Paddy dear, and did you hear the news that going round?
The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground;
St. Patrick’s Day no more we’ll keep, his colours can’t be seen,
For there’s a bloody law against the wearing of the green.
When law can stop the blades of grass from growing as they grow,
And when the leaves in summer-time their verdure dare not show,
Then will I change the color that I wear in my caubeen
But ’till that day, please God, I’ll stick to wearing of the green.
St. Patrick’s Day is an enchanted time – a day to begin transforming winter’s dreams into summer’s magic.
May the Irish hills caress you.
May her lakes and rivers bless you.
May the luck of the Irish enfold you.
May the blessings of Saint Patrick behold you.
There’s a dear little plant that grows in our Isle,
‘Twas Saint Patrick himself sure that set it;
And the sun on his labor with pleasure did smile,
And with dew from his eye often wet it.
It shines thro’ the bog thro’ the brake, thro’ the mireland,
And he called it the dear little Shamrock of Ireland.
Saint Patrick was a gentleman, he came of decent people
In Dublin town he built a church and on it put a steeple.
His father was a Gallagher, his mother was a Brady
His aunt was an O’Shaughnessy and his uncle was a Grady.
So success attend St. Patrick’s fist, he was a saint so clever,
He gave the snakes and toads a twist, and banished them for ever!
Zozimus (Michael Moran)
When St. Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland, they swam to New York and joined the police force.
That’s the Irish all over – they treat a joke as a serious thing and a serious thing as a joke.
There are only two kinds of people in the world:
The Irish and those who wish they were.
When Irish Eyes Are Smiling, sure ’tis like a morn in spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter you can hear the angels sing,
When Irish hearts are happy all the world seems bright and gay,
And When Irish Eyes Are Smiling, sure, they steal your heart away.
Chaucey Olcott and George Graff, Jr.