Irish Blessings
As I count down the days to Patrick's party, I would like to share with you a little Irish blessing every day.
T -5
There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle,
'Twas St. Patrick himself, sure, that sets it;
And the sun of his labor with pleasure did smile,
And with dew from his eye often wet it.
It grows through the bog, through the brake, through the mireland,
And they call it the dear little Shamrock of Ireland.
T -5
There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle,
'Twas St. Patrick himself, sure, that sets it;
And the sun of his labor with pleasure did smile,
And with dew from his eye often wet it.
It grows through the bog, through the brake, through the mireland,
And they call it the dear little Shamrock of Ireland.
Here's one for you
ReplyDelete"Every mother think's it's for her own child that the sun rises"
HOW TRUE IS THAT!!!! PATRICK'S MOM
ReplyDelete