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 Posted: Tue Sep 06, 2005 3:50 pm
*too tired to play, Addy pops a CD into a nearby stereo and helps herself behind the bar to a tall glass of Killian's*
Face down in the gutter won't admit defeat though his clothes are soiled and black,
He's a big, strong man with a childs mind, don't you take his booze away!
He's been at it for years drinking balls and beer he's a hero to most he meets,
But inside he cries black swollen eyes, this man he sheds no tears!
Now his wife and kids sing a different tune as they worry about their daddy dying,
But this arrogant fool breaks every rule it'll be nothing but pride that kills him.
Could he listen no he won't that's all she wrote he'll be dead before the daylight shines,
But the thoughts and prayers of a million strong might keep this fool from dying.
He's a legend in the bar with every scar fights a thousand bigger men,
But now he fights and looses got all the bruises will someone please step in?
Cause this Irish fools got a great big heart he keeps climbing back in to the ring
In the low down circles where he holds his court this man he once was king.
Could he listen no he won't that's all she wrote he'll be dead before the daylight shines,
But the thoughts and prayers of a million strong might keep this fool from dying.
Could he listen no he won't that's all she wrote he'll be dead before the daylight shines,
But the thoughts and prayers of a million strong might keep this fool from dying.
He's a legend in the bar with every scar fights a thousand bigger men,
But now he fights and looses got all the bruises will someone please step in?
Cause this Irish fools got a great big heart he keeps climbing back in to the ring
In the low down circles where he holds his court this man he once was king.
Could he listen no he won't that's all she wrote he'll be dead before the daylight shines,
But the thoughts and prayers of a million strong might keep this fool from dying.
Could he listen no he won't that's all she wrote he'll be dead before the daylight shines,
But the thoughts and prayers of a million strong might keep this fool from dying.
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Posted: Thu Sep 22, 2005 10:06 am
need to wash my hair today domokun
thought I'd inform you all on that
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Posted: Thu Sep 22, 2005 1:16 pm
I am a waitress at a bar! I made four dollars in tips yesternight and worked for 5.5 hours!
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Posted: Wed Sep 28, 2005 11:42 pm
Oh list' to the tale of a poor Irish harper And scorn not the string of his old withered hands But remember those fingers they once could move sharper To raise up the strains of his dear native land It was long before the shamrock, dear isle's lovely emblem Was crushed in its beauty by the Saxon's lion paw And all the pretty colleens around me would gather Call me their bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh How I love to muse on the days of my boyhood Though four score and three years have fled by them It's king's sweet reflection that every young joy For the merry-hearted boys make the best of old men  At a fair or a wake I would twist my shillelah And trip through a dance with my brogues tied with straw There all the pretty maidens around me would gather Call me their bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh In truth I have wandered this wide world over Yet Ireland's my home and a dwelling for me And, oh, let the turf that my old bones shall cover Be cut from the land that is trod by the free And when Sergeant Death in his cold arms doth embrace And lull me to sleep with old Erin go bragh By the side of my Kathleen, my dear pride, oh place me Then forget Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh
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Posted: Sat Oct 01, 2005 6:43 pm
Hm, I've been slacking in my barding, lately. Let's see what I can find...
Murphy won the Irish Sweepstakes $100,000.00 and was on a long holiday in America. He went on a bus tour and travelled for hours and hours through desert country and oil fields. Murphy said, "Where are we now?"
The guide said, "We're in the great state of Texas."
"It's a big place," said Murphy.
The guide said, "It's so big, that your County Kerry would fit into the smallest corner of it."
And Murphy said, "Yes, and wouldn't it do wonders for Texas!"
mrgreen
Brenda O'Malley is home as usual, making dinner, when Tim Finnegan arrives at her door. "Brenda, may I come in?" he asks. "I've somethin' to tell ye."
"Of course you can come in, you're always welcome, Tim. But where's my husband?"
"That's what I'm here to be tellin' ye, Brenda. There was an accident down at the Guinness brewery..."
"Oh, God no!" cries Brenda. "Please don't tell me..."
"Sure and I must, Brenda. Your husband Seamus is dead and gone. I'm sorry." Brenda reached a hand out to her side, found the arm of the rocking chair by the fireplace, pulled the chair to her and collapsed into it. She wept for many minutes. Finally she looked up at Tim.
"How did it happen, Tim?"
"It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat of Guineas Stout and drowned."
"Oh my dear Jesus! But you must tell me true, Tim. Did he at least go quickly?"
"Well, no Brenda......no."
"No?"
"Fact is, he got out three times to pee."
*bows* Athankyou, loves.
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Posted: Thu Oct 06, 2005 2:55 pm
Ya don't mind if I sing a little somthing?
*Gets a gutair* T'is my fave folk song.
By a lonely prison wall
I heard a young girl calling
Micheal they are taking you away
For you stole Trevelyn's corn
So the young might see the morn.
Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay.
Low lie the Fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly.
Our love was on the wing we had dreams and songs to sing
It's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry.
By a lonely prison wall
I heard a young man calling
Nothing matter Mary when your free,
Against the Famine and the Crown
I rebelled they ran me down
Now you must raise our child with dignity.
Low lie the Fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly.
Our love was on the wing we had dreams and songs to sing
It's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry.
By a lonely harbor wall
She watched the last star falling
As that prison ship sailed out against the sky
Sure she'll wait and hope and pray
For her love in Botany Bay
It's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry.
Low lie the Fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly.
Our love was on the wing we had dreams and songs to sing
It's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry.
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Posted: Thu Oct 06, 2005 4:11 pm
Hey, it's always nice to have a little variety around here. And besides, the Fields of Athenry is a good song.
As great as the story of the children of Lir is, I found one of my favorites.
The White Trout.
There was wanst upon a time, long ago, a beautiful lady that lived in a castle upon the lake beyant, and they say she was promised to a king's son, and they war to be married, when all of a sudden he was murthered, the crathur (Lord help us), and threwn into the lake above, and so, of course, he couldn't keep his promise to the fair lady--and more's the pity.
Well, the story goes that she went out iv her mind, bekase av loosin' the king's son--for she was tendher-hearted, God help her, like the rest iv us!--and pined away after him, until at last, no one about seen her, good or bad; and the story wint that the fairies took her away.
Well, sir, in coarse a' time, the White Throut, God bless it, was seen in the sthrame beyant, and sure the people didn't know what to think av the crathur, seein' as how a white throut was never heard av afar, nor since; and years upon years the throut was there, just where you seen it this blessed minit, longer nor I can tell--aye throth, and beyant the memory a' th' ouldest in the village.
At last the people began to think it must be a fairy; for what else could it be?--and no hurt nor harm was iver put an the white throut, until some wicked sinners of sojers kem to these parts, and laughed at all the people, and gibed and jeered them for thinkin' a' the likes; and one a' them in partic'lar (bad luck to him; God forgi' me for saying it!) swore he'd catch the throut and ate it for his dinner--the blackguard!
Well, what would you think o' the villainy of the sojer? Sure enough he catch the throut, and away wid him home, and puts an the fryin'-pan, and into it he pitches the purty little thing. The throut squeeled all as one as a christian crathur, and, my dear, you'd think the sojer id split his sides laughin'--for he was a harden'd villain; and when he thought one side was done, he turns it over to fly the other; and, what would you think, but the divil a taste of a burn was an it all at all; and sure the sojer thought it was a quare throut that could not be briled. "But," says he, 'I'll give it another turn by-and-by," little thinkin' what was in store for him, the haythen.
Well, when he thought that side was done he turns it agin, and lo and behould you, the divil a taste more done that side was nor the other. "Bad luck to me," says the sojer, "but that bates the world," says he; "but I'll thry you agin, my darlint," says he, "as cunnin' as you think yourself;" and so with that he turns it over, but not a sign of the fire was on the purty throut. "Well," says the desperate villain--(for sure, sir, only he was a desperate villain entirely, he might know he was doing a wrong thing, seein' that all his endeavours was no good)--"Well," says he, "my jolly little throut, maybe you're fried enough, though you don't seem over well dress'd; but you may be better than you look, like a singed cat, and a tit-bit afther all," says he; and with that he ups with his knife and fork to taste a piece a' the throut; but, my jew'l, the minit he puts his knife into the fish, there was a murtherin' screech, that you'd think the life id lave you if you hurd it, and away jumps the throut out av the fryin'-pan into the middle a' the flure; and an the spot where it fell, up riz a lovely lady--the beautifullest crathur that eyes ever seen, dressed in white, and a band a' goold in her hair, and a sthrame a' blood runnin' down her arm.
"Look where you cut me, you villain," says she, and she held out her arm to him--and, my dear, he thought the sight id lave his eyes.
"Couldn't you lave me cool and comfortable in the river where you snared me, and not disturb me in my duty?" says she.
Well, he thrimbled like a dog in a wet sack, and at last he stammered out somethin', and begged for his life, and ax'd her ladyship's pardin, and said he didn't know she was on duty, or he was too good a sojer not to know betther nor to meddle wid her.
"I was on duty, then," says the lady; "I was watchin' for my true love that is comin' by wather to me," says she, "an' if he comes while I'm away, an' that I miss iv him, I'll turn you into a pinkeen, and I'll hunt you up and down for evermore, while grass grows or wather runs."
Well the sojer thought the life id lave him, at the thoughts iv his bein' turned into a pinkeen, and begged for mercy; and with that says the lady--
"Renounce your evil coorses," says she, "you villain, or you'll repint it too late; be a good man for the futhur, and go to your duty 1 reg'lar, and now," says she, "take me back and put me into the river again, where you found me."
"Oh, my lady," says the sojer, "how could I have the heart to drownd a beautiful lady like you?"
But before he could say another word, the lady was vanished, and there he saw the little throut an the ground. Well he put it in a clean plate, and away he runs for the bare life, for fear her lover would come while she was away; and he run, and he run, even till he came to the cave agin, and threw the throut into the river. The minit he did, the wather was as red as blood for a little while, by rayson av the cut, I suppose, until the sthrame washed the stain away; and to this day there's a little red mark an the throut's side, where it was cut. 2
Well, sir, from that day out the sojer was an altered man, and reformed his ways, and went to his duty reg'lar, and fasted three times a-week--though it was never fish he tuk an fastin' days, for afther the fright he got, fish id never rest an his stomach--savin' your presence.
But anyhow, he was an altered man, as I said before, and in coorse o' time he left the army, and turned hermit at last; and they say he used to pray evermore for the soul of the White Throut.
*sips at a Guinness*
These trout stories are common all over Ireland. Many holy wells are haunted by such blessed trout. There is a trout in a well on the border of Lough Gill, Sligo, that some paganish person put once on the gridiron. It carries the marks to this day. Long ago, the saint who sanctified the well put that trout there. Nowadays it is only visible to the pious, who have done due penance.
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Posted: Thu Oct 06, 2005 4:25 pm
Nice lil songs there wink happy B-day thread starter!
heres my happy birthday story
sooo, one time I saw a new fitness place by the name of "Queens Fitness" the sign on the front said "a thirty minute workout!" all the parking places in front said (and still do) 20 minute parking. I'll bet that made you giggle tee-hee
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Posted: Thu Oct 06, 2005 5:00 pm
Ha! That did make me giggle!
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Posted: Wed Oct 12, 2005 9:48 pm
[ Message temporarily off-line ]
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Posted: Sat Oct 15, 2005 2:47 pm
[ Message temporarily off-line ]
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Posted: Wed Oct 19, 2005 12:26 am
*takes out the harp and begins to play a gentle tune*
There's a colleen fair as May
For a year and for a day
I have sought by every way
Her heart to gain
There's no art of tongue or eye
Fond youths with maidens try
But I've tried with ceaseless sigh
And tried in vain.
Chorus
If to France or far off Spain
She crossed the watery main
To see her face again
The seas I'd brave
And if it's heaven's decree
That mine she'll never be
May the Son of Mary
Me in mercy save.
But a kiss with welcome bland
And the touch of thy fair hand
Are all that I demand
Wouldst thou not spurn
For if not mine dear girl
My snowy breasted pearl
May I never from the fair
With life return.
Chorus
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Posted: Mon Oct 31, 2005 4:18 pm
*brings in several leprechauns dressed up in strange costumes*
Ok, going to do a special presentation of a scene from the Nightmare Before Christmas. This is probably one of my most favorite songs from the movie. =)
OOGIE BOOGIE
Well, well, well, what have we here?
Sandy Claws, huh?
Oh, I'm really scared
So you're the one everybody's talkin' about, ha, ha
You're jokin', you're jokin'
I can't believe my eyes
You're jokin' me, you gotta be
This can't be the right guy
He's ancient, he's ugly
I don't know which is worse
I might just split a seam now
If I don't die laughing first
When Mr. Oogie Boogie says
There's trouble close at hand
You'd better pay attention now
'Cause I'm the Boogie Man
And if you aren't shakin'
Then there's something very wrong
'Cause this may be the last time now
That you hear the boogie song, ohhh
THREE BATS
Ohhh
OOGIE BOOGIE
Ohhh
SEVEN LIZARDS
Ohhh
OOGIE BOOGIE
Ohhh
SEVEN LIZARDS
Ohhh, he's the Oogie Boogie Man
OOGIE BOOGIE
Well if I'm feelin' antsy
And there's nothin' much to do
I might just cook a special batch
Of snake and spider stew
And don't ya know the one thing
That would make it work so nice?
A roly-poly Sandy Claws to add a little spice
THREE SKELETONS
Ohhh
OOGIE BOOGIE
Oh, yeah
THREE BATS
Ohhh
OOGIE BOOGIE
Ohhh
THREE BATS
Ohhh
OOGIE BOOGIE AND THREE SKELETONS
Oh, yeah, I'm (he's) the Oogie Boogie Man
SANTA
Release me now
Or you must face the dire consequences
The children are expecting me
So please, come to your senses
OOGIE BOOGIE
You're jokin', you're jokin'
I can't believe my ears
Would someone shut this fella up
I'm drownin' in my tears
It's funny, I'm laughing
You really are too much
And now, with your permission
I'm going to do my stuff
SANTA
What are you going to do?
OOGIE BOOGIE
I'm gonna do the best I can
(Musical interlude)
Oh, the sound of rollin' dice
To me is music in the air
'Cause I'm a gamblin' Boogie Man
Although I don't play fair
It's much more fun, I must confess
When lives are on the line
Not mine, of course, but yours, old boy
Now that'd be just fine
SANTA
Release me fast or you will have to
Answer for this heinous act
OOGIE BOOGIE
Oh, brother, you're something
You put me in a spin
You aren't comprehending
The position that you're in
It's hopeless, you're finished
You haven't got a prayer
'Cause I'm Mr. Oogie Boogie
And you ain't going nowhere
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Posted: Tue Nov 08, 2005 12:01 pm
Here you all go, an Irish song from the 17th century.
His hair was black, his eye was blue
His arm was stout, his word was true
I wish in my heart, I was with you,
Go thee, thu Mavourneen slaun.
Chorus
Shule, shule, shule agra
Only death can cease my woe,
Since the lad of my heart from me did go
Go thee thu Mavourneeen slaun!
I sold my rock, I sold my wheel
When my flax was spun, I sold my wheel
To buy my love a sword of steel.
Go thee, thu Mavourneen slaun.
Chorus
I'll dye my petticoat, I'll dye it red,
And round the world I'll beg my bread,
Till I find my love alive or dead,
Go thee, thu Mavourneen slaun.
Chorus
King James was routed in the fray;
The "wild-geese"went with him away,
My boy went too, that dreary day,
Go thee, thu Mavourneen slaun.
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High-functioning Werewolf
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Posted: Tue Nov 15, 2005 5:58 pm
[ Message temporarily off-line ]
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