Living in JULIET with Irish roots

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May you have food and raiment, a soft pillow for your head. May you be forty years in heaven before the devil knows you’re dead.

The curse of the Irish is not that they don't know the words to a song -- it's that they know them all.

May peace and plenty be the first To lift the latch on your door, And happiness be guided to your home By the candle of Christmas.

Praise the child and you praise the mother.

Ireland, sir, for good or evil, No other place under Heaven. And no man can touch its sod Or breathe its air without becoming Better or worse.

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[ Living in JULIET with Irish roots ].

It's easy to be pleasant when life flows by like a song. But the man worth while is the one who can smile When everything goes dead wrong.

Here's to health and prosperity, To you and all your posterity. And them that doesn't drink with sincerity, That they may be damned for all eternity!

On she went, and her maiden smile In safety lighted her round the Green Isle; And blest forever was she who relied Upon Erin's honor and Erin's pride.

It is not a secret if it is known to three people.

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