There’s the joy of ole’ Killarney, in these wishes meant for you;
There’s a bit of Irish blarney, and a touch of magic too —
There’s a wish of lots of laughter, and good luck, be sure o’ that;
And a wish that all your dreams may come true in no time flat.

There are only two kinds of people in the world, The Irish
And those who wish they were.

The test of Gold is Fire
The test of Truth is Time
The test of God’s love are the heavens above
and everything sublime
Treasures in life are many,
dreams realized but few
But I know the test of God’s goodness
is when he gave me a friend like you.

The reason the Irish are always fighting each other
Is they have no other worthy opponents.

There are good ships, and there are wood ships,
The ships that sail the sea.
But the best ships, are friendships,
And may they always be.

The race of men named the Gael,
Is a race God surely made mad.
For all of their wars are merry
And all of their loves are sad.

Rye bread will do you good,
Barely bread will do you no harm,
Wheaten bread will sweeten your blood,
Oaten bread will strengthen your arm.

On the chest of a barmaid in Sale
Were tattooed the prices of ale.
And on her behind,
For the sake of the blind,
Was the same information in Braille!

Now sweetly lies old Ireland
Emerald green beyond the foam,
Awakening sweet memories,
Calling the heart back home.

Murphy’s Law:
Nothing is as easy as it looks.
Everything takes longer than you expect.
And if anything can go wrong,
It will at the worst possible moment.