Cuisine Kathleen is having a sharing of the green party. If you’ve never visited her blog you should because she always has such yummy goodies to share and pretty tables to show. She knows what to put on a plate! For the 6th Annual St. Patrick’s Day Crawl I’m putting some goodies from the past together.  Thank you, Kathleen.

This little Belleek bowl is about the only thing I have that is Irish and worthy of St. Patrick’s Day. I found it at a thrift store for under $5.00 and thought it was a steal!

The Dear Little Shamrock

by Andrew Cherry

There’s a dear little plant that grows in Ireland.
‘Twas Saint Patrick himself sure that set it.
And the sun on his labor with pleasure did smile.
And a tear from his eyes oft-times wet it.
It grows thro’ the bog, thro’ the brake, and the mireland,
And it’s called the dear little Shamrock of Ireland.

That dear little plant still grows in our land,
Fresh and fair as the daughters of Erin,
Whose smiles can bewitch, and whose eyes can command,
In each climate they ever appear in:
For they shine thro’ the bog, thro’ the brake, and the mireland,
Just like their own dear little Shamrock of Ireland.

That dear little plant that springs from our soil,
When its three little leaves are extended,
Denotes from the stalk we together should toil,
And ourselves by ourselves be befriended.
And still thro’ the bog, thro’ the brake, and the mireland,
From one root should branch, like the Shamrock of Ireland.

shamrock ~ In the irish language, this tiny three-leaved -and, with luck, four-leaved – plant is called seamrac or semrach, the diminutive of the word for clover, seamar. Thus shamrock means, literally, “little clover,” which is just what it is.

The Dear Little Shamrock

There’s a dear little plant that grows in our Isle,
Twas Saint Patrick himself sure that set it;
And the sun on his labour with pleasure did smile,
And the dew from his eye often wet it.
It shines thro’ the bog, thro’ the brake, thro’ the mireland,
And he called it the dear little Shamrock of Ireland.

Chorus:

The dear little Samrock, the sweet little shamrock,
the dear little, sweet little Shamrock of Ireland.
That dear Ireland.

That dear little plant still grows in our land,
Fresh and fair as the daughters of Erin,
Whose smiles can bewitch, and whose eyes can command,
In each climate they ever appear in.
For they shine thro’ the bog, thro’ the brake, thro’ the mireland,
Just like their own dear little Shamrock of Ireland.

CHORUS

That dear little plant that springs from our soil,
When its three little leaves are extended,
Denotes from the stalk we togethr should toil,
And ourselves by ourselves be befriended.
And still thro’ the bog, thro’ the brake, thro’ the mireland,
From one root should branch, like the Shamrock of Ireland.

CHORUS

An Old Celtic Blessing

May the blessing of light be on you –
light without and light within.
May the blessed sunlight shine on you
and warm your heart
till it glows like a great peat fire.

I love Celtic Crosses. This one is from Graceland Cemetery in Chicago, Illinois.

 I will be making Corned Beef and Cabbage this weekend at our son’s place in Eastern Washington. Do you make it this time of year?