The Irish Sure Have a Way with Words
1
May those who love us love us.
And those that don't love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn't turn their hearts,
May he turn their ankles,
So we'll know them by their limping.
2
No butter be on your milk nor on your ducks a web
May your child not walk and your cow be flayed
And may the flame be bigger and wider
Which will go through your soul
Than the Connemara mountains
If they were on fire
3
May you be afflicted with the itch and have no nails to scratch with!
Ah, the Irish. They sure have a way with words.
May those who love us love us.
And those that don't love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn't turn their hearts,
May he turn their ankles,
So we'll know them by their limping.
2
No butter be on your milk nor on your ducks a web
May your child not walk and your cow be flayed
And may the flame be bigger and wider
Which will go through your soul
Than the Connemara mountains
If they were on fire
3
May you be afflicted with the itch and have no nails to scratch with!
Ah, the Irish. They sure have a way with words.
posted by Zed on Wednesday, March 23, 2011
4 Comments:
May he turn their ankles :) Hah... love it.
I love it as well, Sushiboy. And I'm sure it's recited in a very sweet brogue.
It's sort of like a stabbing with a smile on the perpetrator's face. :)
you made that up, we Irish do not talk like that.
You know you do, teri. I've heard you. :)
My favorite: May you be afflicted with the itch and have no nails to scratch with!
And there are tons more.
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