A sentimental modern Irish immigrant song for the Day After Saint Patrick’s Day. As a Dutchman I apologize for the last verse, not meaning to insult anyone. Frank McLynn is willing to take the blame for those words.
Rough recording to let you hear the melody. Full recording in the making. Stay tuned.
Updated lyrics (and again and again), thanks to the invaluable review of Mary Fitzpatrick and thanks to Frank McLynn’s tactful comments, that inspired me to add a fourth and a half verse.
I wish I was back home in Ireland
To celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day
My kindly colleagues here will never understand
What it means to me Saint Patrick’s Day
I wear the shamrock socks my mother sent to me
And when I’m sitting on my bed at night
I browse the pictures of the celebrations
And drink a health to my heart’s delight
I send a blessing to my boyhood friends
“May the best day of your past
Be the worst day of your future”
Words I learned and love to hold fast
And when I look at my situation
A life of luxury, it seems all set
But on a day like this, being a runaway
Salty tears well up of sweet regret
The lovely people here are all so kind to me
I got a green hat and a leprechaun
There was a party at the Irish embassy
But it was over long before the dawn
A call from home carried me back across the foam
I wasn’t here for a little while
But I awoke in a far and foreign land
And long for nothing but my own Green Isle
Now I admit I am a sentimental poser
Didn’t leave a land in full despair
I had no fence to climb, nor a rickety boat
Can go home or anywhere by air
A city isn’t a city if there’s no Irish Pub
There’s even Irish Dance, here on tap
But I miss the craic we had with old friends at home
And that Irish maiden on my lap!
To be more honest, I left a godforsaken land
Religion-ridden and quite messed-up
A land of hypocrites I’m glad to leave behind
Hurray for freedom and fulfillment, hup!
Photo: NASA/Chris Hadfield – Expedition 35/Chris Hadfield