It is sufficient to say, what everybody knows to be true, that the Irish population is Catholic, and that the Protestants, whether of the Episcopalian or Presbyterian Church, or of both united, are a small minority of the Irish people.
quote by John Bright
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Related quotes
As you know, I am neither Roman Catholic, Protestant Episcopalian, nor Presbyterian, nor am I an Irishman.
quote by John Bright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was raised Irish Catholic, but I don't consider myself Irish Catholic: I consider myself me, an American.
quote by John Cusack
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The Wedding of Jenny McGill
There were red roses, and white roses
At the wedding of Jenny McGill,
For she was a Roman Catholic,
And he of the other ilk,
But the priest had refused the Catholic Church
In the way that it was, back then,
For she was a Roman Catholic,
And he Presbyterian.
But her love had bloomed like a red, red rose
And his love had bloomed as well,
For love is the great uniting force
Of the Lord, this side of hell.
So she baked the bread with her loving hands
And he broke the bread with his,
The love shone out of his Protestant eyes
At the thought of wedded bliss.
Now she'd been raised in West Belfast
And he on the Shankill Road,
They were never supposed to fall in love
Like this, so they'd been told,
For the Orange Lord is an English Lord
And shunned, in the Irish way,
While the Lord of the Green is an Irish Lord,
So said the I.R.A.
They warned her once, they warned her twice
This wedding could never be,
For he was a Presbyterian
This John McGonachy,
And children had to be brought up right,
Believe in the Catholic scene,
And fight to unite dear Ireland
For St. Patrick and the Green.
McGonachy was told as well,
No good would come of this,
For he was a Presbyterian
And Jenny a Catholic.
His parents threatened to cut him off,
His friends just said: 'We'll see! '
He even got a visit at work
From the uniformed R.U.C.
But love should break down barriers,
And love should reign supreme,
They looked for a church to wed them both,
The Presbyterian.
She looked a picture when down the aisle
She walked, like an Angel queen,
He wore an Orange buttonhole,
And she a spray of Green.
The vicar read the service as
They gazed in each other's eyes,
Her love had bloomed as a red, red rose,
And his as a white surprise,
They made their vows so tenderly
Her dress, so white, so pale,
And then 'twas time to kiss the bride,
She lifted up her veil.
The stained glass window by the nave
That showed our Lord in grace,
Had lost some of the coloured glass
Around the Saviour's face,
Two shots rang out, and then two more,
The air was very still,
When red, red roses bloomed once more
On the dress of Jenny McGill.
The lovers died in each other's arms
And love died too, that day,
They carried them out of the chapel door
As some others turned to pray,
And some prayed to the Orange Lord
And some to the Green Lord still,
The Lord in the stained glass window wept
At the wedding of Jenny McGill.
They buried her down in a Catholic row,
And him by the Shankill Road,
Even in death they'd be kept apart
By the Green and the Orange code.
But the Lord is love, and he lifted them up
To a dwelling all white and cream,
Where the roses bloom in the wintertime,
And there's neither Orange nor Green.
27 July 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
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If You're Lucky Enough To Be Irish
If you're lucky enough to be Irish
Then you're lucky enough they say.
I count my Irish blessings,
As I breathe the air each day.
When I'm somewhere o'er the water
Not walking Erin's shore,
I know my resting place will be
In Ireland for evermore.
I have Irish songs on my lips,
And Irish blood in my veins,
So I tell you I'm lucky to be Irish,
And I'll keep telling you over again.
I'm lucky enough to be Irish.
My children who walk by my side,
Will I hope, too feel the calling,
And someday walk Erin's fields wide.
poem by Rosi Caswell
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Give Ireland Back To The Irish
Give ireland back to the irish
Dont make them have to take it away
Give ireland back to the irish
Make ireland irish today
Great britian you are tremendous
And nobody knows like me
But really what are you doin
In the land across the sea
Tell me how would you like it
If on your way to work
You were stopped by irish soliders
Would you lie down do nothing
Would you give in, or go berserk
Give ireland back to the irish
Dont make them have to take it away
Give ireland back to the irish
Make ireland irish today
Great britian and all the people
Say that all people must be free
Meanwhile back in ireland
Theres a man who looks like me
And he dreams of God and country
And hes feeling really bad
And hes sitting in a prison
Should he lie down do nothing
Should give in or go mad
Give ireland back to the irish
Dont make them have to take it away
Give ireland back to the irish
Make ireland irish today
Give ireland back to the irish
Dont make them have to take it away
Give ireland back to the irish
Make ireland irish today
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Irish Rover
Tell me the story now
Now that its over
Wrap it in glory
For one irish rover
Tell me you wiser now
Tell me you older
Wrap it in glory
For one irish rover
Bridge:
I can tell by the light in your eye
That youre so far away
Like a ship out on the sea
Without a sail, youve gone astray
Tell me the facts real straight
Dont make me over
Make it come out alright
And wrap it in glory
For one irish rover
For one irish rover
One irish rover
One irish rover
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My mom always said that if the Protestants catch a Catholic in their church, they feed them to the Jews.
quote by Kate O'Brien
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People do think I'm Jewish. But we're Irish Catholic. My father had a brogue.
quote by Martin Short
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Reading Of Racism In Ireland
I always feel disappointed when of racism I read
And when I read of it in Ireland I feel very sad indeed
For racism in society should never have a place
And people should never be judged on their colour or their race.
As the Land of saints and scholars Ireland was known Worldwide
And the Irish people suffered and their rights to them denied
But the Irish in their sense of fair play could take a certain pride
And for their human rights and liberty the sons of Ireland died.
Poor migrants from Romania their possessions weigh light
To live and work in Ireland do they not have the right?
They may come un-invited but their numbers only small
And the Irish too are migrants as history will recall.
I read it's the Irish media that fans racism's flame
If this be so of their bad work they must feel a great shame
They cannot say in years to come the fault was never ours
When they first used the noxious spray that poisoned all the flowers.
I am an Irish migrant far from my native shore
And others treat me with respect than that one could not ask for more
A fair go for all people and for everyone fair play
Those words from centuries ago are relevant today.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Luck Of The Irish
Ok, one, two, three, one two, three
If you had the luck of the irish,
You'd be sorry and wish you were dead.
You should have the luck of the irish,
And you'd wish you was english instead.
A thousand years of torture and hunger,
Drove the people away from their land.
A land full of beauty and wonder
Was raped by the british brigands!
Goddamned!
Goddamned!
If you could keep voices like flowers,
There's be shamrock all over the world.
If you could drink dreams like irish streams,
Then the world would be as high as the mountain of morn.
In the 'pool they told us the story
How the english divided the land.
Of the pain and the death and the glory
And the poets of auld eireland.
If we could make chains with the morning dew,
The world would be like galway bay.
Let's walk over rainbows like leprechauns,
The world would be one big blarney stone.
Why the hell are the english there anyway?
As they kill with god on their side!
Blame it all on the kids and the i.r.a.
As the bastards commit genocide!
Aye! aye!
Genocide!
Okay!
You should have the luck of the irish,
You'd be sorry and wish you were dead.
You should have the luck of the irish,
And you'd wish you was english instead.
One more time!
You should have the luck of the irish,
You'd be sorry and wish you were dead.
You should have the luck of the irish,
And you'd wish you was english instead,
Hey, yes, you'd wish you were english instead.
- "thank you!
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Irish Granny
A Tribute To My Irish Granny
By Marie Hurst on 17 June 2011
land of my grt grt grt grandmother beckon to me
Lure me home over the Irish sea
There with eyes of pure emerald green
My granny once walked, my Irish queen
Mary I never knew you, I wish I had
You died long before for that am sad
All I know is you where my granny
my Irish queen.
from County Derry, Where I have never been
Let the Irish music play so sweet
let the shamrocks be crushed not by my feet
For I am the outsider, born in the UK
yet I would love to be Irish Just for a day
Mary Glendenning born in 1836 I love you
I have never seen your home land
But May God Bless You
poem by Marie Causey
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Radio Station: Chico, Irish Tuesday
there is
a place
in chicago,
hidden
and open
only
to the irish
lonely
only rare lonely irish girls.
hey iris,
hello irish,
little natty
nato
bateau
couteau
coto
costo
boulo
bella bellissi si mo
deli isso mo
es ki mo who mo mo mo (s)
so lady
why you are a lady
if you are
only
lonely
and left alone.
so irish
lady
why you are irish
who hates the brit- esh and not the brite-esh
who bit itches and iches
behind the walls.
And
lady,
please my lady,
why are you
staying alone if you
are in love with another
lovely baby
who always
makes you feel
unique
like an
ancient boutique
inside
the history
museum.
poem by Atef Ayadi
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A Team Brother Walfrid Called Celtic
In the Archdiocese of Glasgow
In the city’s east end,
Brother Walfrid sat with his assistant Brother Dorotheus,
The vision they shared
Was that the poor must be fed
As the dinner tables lay empty for the Irish.
Brother Walfrid had a dream
That wore Ireland’s emerald green
And would be saviours to the minority Catholics,
The Irish stood at Parkhead
And the football was played
By a team, that Brother Walfrid called Celtic.
poem by Daniel McDonagh
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Irish
St. Patrick's day is with us,
The day when all that's seen
From right and left
And everywhere is green, green, green.
I'll wear an Irish shamrock
In my coat the glad day through,
For my mother and Grandma are Irish,
And I am half way Irish, too!
poem by Autumn Howard
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I was brought up by an Episcopalian father and Presbyterian mother in nondenominational Army chapels all over the world and never really had much religious experience.
quote by Sally Quinn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Minority Government
The wise are in minority.
The rulers are in minority
Rogues too are in minority.
So are captains and militants.
Teachers are in minority.
Bishops are in minority.
Juries too are minority.
So are smugglers and the rich.
Americans are in minority.
Human beings are in minority.
Minority rules the majority.
Minority rides the majority.
Majority yields to minority.
Majority fears the minority,
And loves to play the role of drudgery.
The sign of majority is slavery
23.09.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I'm an Irish Catholic and I have a long iceberg of guilt.
quote by Edna O'Brien
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To-Ra-Loo-Ra
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Hush now, don't you cry
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
That's an Irish lullaby
Over in Killarney, many years ago
My mother sang a song to me in tones so soft and low
Just a simple little ditty in her good old Irish way
And I'd give the world if I could hear that song of hers
today
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Hush now, don't you cry
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
That's an Irish lullaby
song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When the Irish Flag Went By
’Twas Eight-Hour Day, and proudly
Old Labour led the way;
The drums were bearing loudly,
The crowded streets were gay;
But something touched my heart like pain,
I could not check the sigh
That rose within my bosom when
The Irish Flag went by.
Bright flags were raised about it
And one of them my own:
And patriots trod beneath it—
But it seemed all alone.
I thought of ruined Ireland
While crystals from the sky
Fell soft like tears by angels shed,
As the Irish Flag went by.
I love the dark green standard
As Irish patriots do;
It waves above the rebels,
And I’m a rebel too,
I thought of Ireland’s darkest years,
Her griefs that follow fast;
For drooping as ’twere drenched with tears
The Irish Flag went past.
And though ’twas not in Erin
That my forefathers trod;
And though my wandering footsteps
Ne’er pressed the “dear old sod”,
I felt the wrongs the Irish feel
Beneath the northern sky.
And felt the rebel in my heart
When the Irish Flag went by.
I tell you, men of England,
Who rule the land by might;
I tell you, Irish traitors
Who sell the sons of light,
The tyranny shall fail at last,
That changeful days are nigh;
And you shall dip your red flag yet,
When the Irish Flag goes by.
poem by Henry Lawson
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