graphic by John Earl

graphic by John Earl

I recall my dear ol' Da' reciting this a time or two:

Some guinness was spilt on the barroom floor
When the pub was closed for the night,
A wee brown mouse crept out of his hole
And sat in the pale moonlight
He lapped up the frothy brew from the floor
Then back on his haunches sat,
And all night long you could hear him roar,
"Bring on the goddamned cat!"

-- submitted by Magpye

Darrin Brenner-Rolat

Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I have been with a
loose woman.
The priest asks, "Is that you, little Timmy Shaughnessy?

Yes, Father, it is.

And, who was the woman you were with?

I can't be tellin' you, Father. I don't want to ruin
her reputation.

Well, Timmy, I'm sure to find out sooner or later, so
you may as well tell me now.

Was it Brenda O'Malley?

I cannot say.

Was it Patricia Kelly?

I'll never tell.

Was it Sheilah O'Brien?

I'm sorry, but I cannot name her.

Was it Kathleen Morgan?

My lips are sealed.

Was it Fiona Grogan, then?

Please, Father, I cannot tell you.

The priest sighs in frustration. You're a steadfast
lad, Timmy, and I admire that. But you've sinned, and you must atone.
You cannot attend church mass for three months. Be off with you now.

Timmy walks back to his pew. His friend Sean slides over and whispers,
What'd you get?

Three month's vacation and five good leads.


You look like you'd find a hare
for ever upon the ground you stare.
Must be the madness of time marching on.
In like a lamb and mad as a March hare.
Things that are forgotten reapper.
The winds gathering like sleeping flowers
Will be at the howlings for endless hours.
Pity dogs and forgive men.
Hear flocks of tiny pleaides
Among the plum and apple trees.
Stick to thy winter flannels
Till thy winter flannels stick to you.
Step outside into the bowers
Smelling the presence of the up-thrust flowers

Tis the luck of the Irish, the Irish I say,
With a tootle-aye, tootle-aye, tootle-aye ay.
Yes the luck of the Irish, the Irish I say,
With a tootle-aye, tootle-aye, tootle aye ay.

-- Capn Skyp

Perhaps no one can be really a good appreciating pagan who has not once been a bad puritan.
-- Bourne

graphic by Darrin Brenner-Rolat


rick-ety, rack-ety shanty town,
nobody gets the Irish down!

St. Patrick's Breastplate

A daily meditation of gratitude and hope. Known as The Deer's Cry or as St. Patrick's Breastplate, the words attributed to St. Patrick read, "I arise today through the strength of heaven; Light of the sun, Splendor of fire, Speed of lightning, Swiftness of the wind, Depth of the sea, Stability of the earth, Firmness of the rock."

St. Patrick's opposition to the ancient order of the time began during the Celtic springtime fire festival known as Beltane traditionally held on Tara hill. The ritual commences with the ceremonial lighting of the High King's fire, from each year upon arrival of Spring the Ancient custom of rekindling the Beltane Fire which all other fires through out Erie would be carried to and relit.
St. Patrick, in his effort to discredit the Druid elders, lit a fire on a nearby hill. The High King Laoghaire considered this tantamount to a declaration of war and Patrick and his followers were soon arrested and put on trial in Tara before the king. Of all that sat or stood in the presence of the King, no one arose to show respect to Patrick but Dubhthach, an aged Druid, and the young poet, Fiech whos eyes fixing sternly on the saint and his followers, sharply addressed them. "Know ye not the law of this land, that whoever on the eve of Belteiné kindles a fire before the blaze is seen from Tara, is devoted to death"
It was said that the druids told the king, "If that fire is not quenched today it will burn for ever, and it will overcome all the fires of our religion."
Patrick went on determined to drive the Snakes or Druids out of Ireland (in his own words) "cursed their fertile lands, so that they became dreary bogs; to curse their rivers, so that they produced no
fish; to curse their very kettles, so that with no amount of fire and patience could they ever be made to boil; and as a last resort, to curse the Druids themselves, so that the earth opened and swallowed
them up." It was shortly after this time that the Massacre of our beloved
ancient holy people at Iona took place. Ever so near had the chances of an Avalon achieving a harmonious peace for all the sons and Daughters of Erin been taken from their grasps due to the advancing of an intolerant ideologic so called Christian Rome. Perhaps it's not too late and the holy fire be rekindled again to show the world that we are still here and that a great unifying peace come to all of Erins children. Have a Merry St Patricks everyone, and don't forget to light a fire in honor of your loved ones' memory.

-- from an egroup, sent in by Darrin

This is by

Ed Dykhuizen, Contributing Writer
The Kansas City

St. Patrick didn't literally drive any snakes out of Ireland. There's actually one story that involved a particularly clever snake, who talked to St. Patrick, as animals did all the time in the old days. This snake was so clever, in fact, that he wasn't too hip to the idea of following all the other snakes who just drowned in the sea right before his eyes. But St. Patrick tricked him into slithering into a box, and then threw it in the water. This story might not be 100 percent true.

Odds are that all the snake stuff is metaphorical; many of the pagans of the time (mostly Druids) used snakes as their religious symbols. What St. Patrick did do was bring Christianity to Ireland, thus driving out the snakes of paganism.

He was an interesting guy, St. Patrick. He was born around 425 A.D. as Maewyn Succat, in either England or Scotland. At age 16 he was captured by pirates and sold into slavery. He had a religious epiphany while herding pigs in Ireland and then managed to escape. But after becoming a bigwig in the Catholic church, he was sent back to Ireland, where he converted the whole country, basically, to Christianity.

In fact, his whole confession, which serves as
an autobiography (don't worry, it's only about
two pages) is available online.

What about shamrocks, you ask? Does the
name derive from a fifth century Irish jig band
called Sham, which was so great that people
often said "Sham rocks!" Ha ha ha, no. Of
course not. What, are you crazy?

The shamrock symbolizes several different
things. As it often is with holidays, the
three-leafed clover's significance is a
combination of Christian and pagan tradition.
The shamrock symbolizes the cross and the Holy Trinity. There is a legend that St. Patrick often used it as a visual aid for teaching these concepts. Also, shamrocks were believed to be a remedy against snake and scorpion bites, because after extensive fourth-century medical research, it was concluded that snakes were never seen hanging around them. Ergo, they must cure snakebites. At any rate, we see that again St. Patrick's Day is all about hating snakes.

But before that it was a sacred plant of the
Druids because it forms a triad. Three was a mystical number in the Celtic religion, as well as many others.

My Irish Rose
To thee I say
To thee I pray
Let's join hands
Our hearts beat as one
On St. Patrick's day

For more St. Patrick history click on the faery.

County Mayo, Ireland, celebrates St. Patrick, he tried to convert the pagans in the coastal regions of Mayo where they retreated into rough areas where heather and heath (heathens) grows, beautiful country and you can really understand why they worship nature and the mysteries of the planet and universe. Seems to me St. Patrick meant these people no harm except an interest in conversion. Anyway Capt, if you've never been to Ireland - go if you can - and get to County Mayo, lots of antiquity, brilliant stone age people/remnants that go back to the dawn of human communication from then to the present. St. Patrick climbed a beautiful mountain in Mayo, Croagh Patrick. You can honor him by climbing to the top barefoot, at night. 

St. Patrick is the patron Saint of Ireland, in America the holiday represents the acheivements of the Irish who came to the land of religious and political freedom and fought for those ideals and have made a damn good run at it.

Thanks, Chris  

TURDAY, MARCH 17, 2007


"There are long ships, there are tall ships, they sailed the seven seas, but the best ship is friendship, and may it always be"

graphic by Darrin Brenner-Rolat***************graphic by John Earl

by Ken Babbs

Ye don't want to be tormentin'
the Little green men.
The leprechauns dance and pipe
And the little men sing
While the paddies wanted gold
The coleens planted potatoes.
They hauled seaweed at low tide
And covered the bedrock
Until it was deep enough
They could plant potatoes.
They should have left the little people alone.
They wouldn't have got the snakes.
Tools of the horned devil hisself
Hissing up the dale and
Slithering down the vale.
No one could go outside for fear of the snakes.

And the potatoes all withered
Untended in their graves.
Until St. Patrick came came with the saves

Tis the luck of the Irish, the Irish I say,
With a tootle-aye, tootle-aye, tootle-aye ay.
Yes, the luck of the Irish, the Irish I say,
With a tootle-aye, tootle-aye, tootle-aye ay.

St. Patty's laying about
with his shelalagh right and left.
The heather pipers are blowing a mighty jig.
Lassies are loosening pins
Letting hair and skirts fall.
Wind twirling their heads all around.
Till everyone's thinking
The sky is the ground
And potatos grow up
Instead of grow down.
The land has been scoured
So clean by the snakes
The ground is all bare
From Killarney to the lakes.

Tis the luck of the Irish, the Irish I say,
With a tootle-aye, tootle-aye, tootle-aye ay.
Yes, the luck of the Irish, the Irish I say,