We are approaching the day where celebrations include the wearing of the green. My ancestry is rich with the feisty DNA of Irish immigrants. My mother claims that our kin not only kissed the Blarney Stone, they took a bite out of it. I wrote a poem to tell the history of St. Patrick. I hope you enjoy it. I'll be out doing a little wool gathering for a few days. Happy St. Patrick's Day. Don't forget to wear green.
ST. PATRICK
Green beer and drunkenness,
clovers and Leprechauns,
singing and dancing to old
Celtic tunes.
the parish of Maewyn,
the bishop, converter, till 461.
March 17th, the day of his death
we celebrate now in secular mirth.
Captured at sixteen by Irish marauders,
sold into slavery,
a Welshman by birth.
He escaped after six years and
fled into Gaul ,
where he studied with monks
Christianities’ tenets,
and fourteen years later he
answered the call.
Bishop to Ireland
he preached and converted.
Resisted by Druids,
arrested, escaping,
building schools,
and churches.
Metaphorically chasing,
the snakes from the land.
Maewyn the pagan,
St. Patrick, the Christian
served thirty years in
his mission to Ireland
His vision,
to see his captors set free.
I DO NOT for one moment doubt that your ancestors took a bit out of that ole stone!! Mine were probably right there with them!!!
ReplyDeleteThough mine were probably a bit more fiesty, they were SCOT/Irish!!
Loved it Pappy!!
"Happy St. Patrick's" day to you too Pappy. And don't worry I have my geen shirt all picked out!
ReplyDeleteI have a bit of the Irish in me also, thanks to my Dad's side of the family!!!
;)