March 17, 2005
Happy Saint Patrick's Day Me Lads And Lasses!
There is one day, and one day only in the fullness of time when everyone is Irish. That day is today, so in honor of the good St. Patrick, I've posted the lyrics to "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling." The lyrics to When Irish Eyes Are Smiling were written by Chauncey Olcott and George Graff, Jr. and set to the music of Enerst Ball for Olcott's production of The Isle O' Dreams. The music was published in 1912. Olcott also wrote "My Wild Irish Rose" and either song will make you Irish today. And, while you're at it, head over to Ogre's Politics and Views for a Test to See how Irish you are. Songstress of News From The Great Beyond doesn't believe she is Irish, but TODAY she is. In Fact, so is Peitro from The Smarter Cop who may not realize that (although being a smarter cop I'm sure he does) that cops and Irishmen have a natural affinity.
So, without further ado, lift your voices and a glass of Killian's Red and have a go.
There's a tear in your eye,
And I'm wondering why,
For it never should be there at all.
With such pow'r in your smile,
Sure a stone you'd beguile,
So there's never a teardrop should fall.
When your sweet lilting laughter's
Like some fairy song,
And your eyes twinkle bright as can be;
You should laugh all the while
And all other times smile,
And now, smile a smile for me.
When Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, 'tis like the 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.
For your smile is a part
Of the love in your heart,
And it makes even sunshine more bright.
Like the linnet's sweet song,
Crooning all the day long,
Comes your laughter and light.
For the springtime of life
Is the sweetest of all
There is ne'er a real care or regret;
And while springtime is ours
Throughout all of youth's hours,
Let us smile each chance we get.
When Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, 'tis like the 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.
The Irish mourner was despondent after viewing the body of his dead atheist friend. "Och . . ." he said, "and there he lies, all dressed up and no place ta' go, poor lad."
Posted by HB at March 17, 2005 06:47 PM
My personal favorite, if I were to have a favorite, is "Dear Boss". The lyrics:
"Dear Boss I write this note to you to tell you of my plight.
And at the time of writing I am not a pretty sight.
Me body is all black and blue, and me face a deadly gray.
And I hope you’ll understand why Paddy’s not at work today.
I was working on the 14th floor, some bricks I had to clear.
And throwin em down from such a height was not a good idea.
The foreman wasn’t very pleased, he bein an awful sod,
He said I’d have to take em down the ladder in me hod.
Now shiftin all those bricks by hand it seemed so awful slow,
So I hoisted up a barrel and secured a rope below.
But in my haste to do the job, I was too blind to see,
That a barrel full of buildin’ bricks was heavier than me.
Now, when I came down, I cut the rope and the barrel fell like lead.
And clinging tightly to the rope, I started up instead.
I shot up like a rocket and to my dismay I found,
that halfway up I met the bloody barrel comin’ down.
Now the barrel broke me shoulder as to the ground it sped.
And when I reached the top I struck the pulley with my head,
I still clung on though numbed and shocked from this almighty blow,
While the barrel spilled out half the bricks, 14 floors below.
Now when the bricks had fallen from the barrel to the floor,
I then outweighed the barrel and I started down once more.
Still clinging tightly to the rope, I headed for the ground.
And fell among the broken bricks that were all scattered round.
As I lay there moaning on the floor, sure I thought I’d passed the worst.
And then the barrel struck the pulley wheel and didn’t the bottom burst.
A shower of bricks came down on me sure I hadn’t got a hope.
And as I was losing consciousness … I let go the bloody rope.
Now the barrel it being heavier, it started down once more,
It landed right across me as I lay there on the floor.
I broke three ribs and my left arm, and I can only say,
That I hope you’ll understand why Paddy’s not at work today."
This is best performed with a accompaniest who pantomimes the events while you sing.
Posted by too many steves at March 18, 2005 06:30 PM
