irish mom

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May you have: No frost on your spuds, No worms on your cabbage. May your goat give plenty of milk. And if you inherit a donkey, May she be in foal.

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!

Ireland is rich in literature that understands a soul's yearnings, and dancing that understands a happy heart.

You're not as young as you used to be. But... You're not as old as you're going to be. So watch it!

Experience is the comb that life gives a bald man.

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[ irish mom ].

The problem with Ireland is that it's a country full of genius, but with absolutely no talent.

Two people shorten the road: Company makes the journey fly, as evidenced by one anecdote from Celtic folklore. In it, a father asks his son to "shorten their journey" to see the king, and refuses to continue on foot when the son doesn't know how. Frustrated, the son asks his wife what to do. "Every one knows that storytelling is the way to shorten a road," she says. They set out the next morning, and the son weaves a tale the whole way to White Strand. Lesson learned: Giorraíonn beirt bóthar.

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

May the cat eat you, and may the devil eat the cat: Consider this insult a double whammy. By saying, "Go n-ithe an cat thú is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat," the speaker wishes that a cat gobble up his enemy like a can of Fancy Feast, and that the Devil eat them both. It's a surefire sentence to Hell. Curses are far more detailed and nuanced in Irish culture, as compared to the traditional F-bombs dropped in the U.S. Here's another popular mouthful of an insult: "May you be afflicted with itching without the benefit of scratching." Burn.

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