Justawoman
03-17-2005, 11:59 AM
There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle,
'Twas St. Patrick himself, sure, that sets it;
And the sun of his labor with pleasure did smile,
And with dew from his eye often wet it.
It grows through the bog, through the brake, through the mireland,
And they call it the dear little Shamrock of Ireland.
May your neighbors respect you,
Troubles neglect you,
The angels protect you,
And Heaven accept you.
May you have:
A world of wishes at your command
God and his angels close at hand
Friends and family their love impart,
And Irish blessings in you heart.
May God grant you many years to live,
For sure he must be knowing
The earth has angels all to few
And Heaven is overflowing.
http://www.spacespider.net/emo/eatdrink007.gif
'Twas St. Patrick himself, sure, that sets it;
And the sun of his labor with pleasure did smile,
And with dew from his eye often wet it.
It grows through the bog, through the brake, through the mireland,
And they call it the dear little Shamrock of Ireland.
May your neighbors respect you,
Troubles neglect you,
The angels protect you,
And Heaven accept you.
May you have:
A world of wishes at your command
God and his angels close at hand
Friends and family their love impart,
And Irish blessings in you heart.
May God grant you many years to live,
For sure he must be knowing
The earth has angels all to few
And Heaven is overflowing.
http://www.spacespider.net/emo/eatdrink007.gif