May the road rise up to meet you May the wind be always at your back
May the sun shine down upon your face And the rain fall soft upon your fields Until we meet again May God hold you in the
hollow of his hand.
There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle, 'Twas St.
Patrick himself sure that set it; And the sun on his labour with
pleasure did smile, And with dew from his eye often wet it. It
thrives through the bog, through the brake, through the mireland;
And he called it the dear little shamrock of Ireland- The sweet little
shamrock, the dear little shamrock, The sweet little, green little,
shamrock of Ireland! Andrew Cherry, Irish Playwright (1762-1812)
In the end, there are only two things to worry about: either you are well or you are sick. When you're well, there is nothing to worry about. But if you're sick, then there are two things to worry
about: either you get well or you will die. When you get well, there is nothing to worry about. But when you die, then there are two things to worry about: either you'll go to heaven or you'll go to
hell. When you go to heaven, there is nothing to worry about. But when you go to hell, you'll be so damn busy shaking hands with friends, you won't have time to worry!
SO WHY WORRY!?
Kindly sent in by Friedrich Steinkuhl
Identify A Real Irishman
A true Irishman considers a bore to be someone who keeps constantly
A true Irishman considers anyone who won't come around to his point
of view to be hopelessly stubborn.
A true Irishman has so much respect for the truth that he uses it
only in emergencies.