The Idler, Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Wearing of the green

WIT A SHILLELAGH at me arm and a twinkle in me oi, Oi'll be off to Tipperary in de mornin' ... Yes, it's St Patrick's Day and all over the world they'll be serving Guinness that's dyed green and the Irish will be making merry. Also the non-Irish who like to make merry anyway.

In Ireland itself it's a public holiday. Also on the Caribbean island of Montserrat and in the Canadian province of Newfoundland and Labrador.

In Britain the Irish Guards will be wearing shamrocks specially flown in from Ireland. In Chicago they dye the river green. Huge St Patrick's Day parades are held all over the world, notably in Boston and New York.

In Argentina they set the bar high. They drink beer and dance at St Patrick's night parties, right through until 7am next day.

As the Guinness brewery puts it: "Everyone's Irish on March 17!"

When laws can stop the blades of grass from growin' as they grow

And when the leaves in summer-time their colour dare not show

Then I will change the colour too I wear in my caubeen

But till that day, please God, I'll stick to the Wearin' o' the Green.

Memories

THOSE of us who have known the enchantment of Ireland will have our particular memories. Such as a long procession of men marching with purpose through the small town of Tralee, the procession so long that its head and its end were out of sight.

What was this? The IRA? People were peeling off from the procession and going into the pubs. Others were coming out of the pubs and joining.

A pub clearly was the place to investigate. It turned out it was a funeral.

"Sure, we've given him a beautiful funeral," a fellow at the bar said. "We've carried him four times past his place of work already."

Then he invited us to join him trout fishing. He had the nets ready, he said.

Nets? We were horrified. Catching trout in nets?

He was the local poacher. Nets were much more efficient than flies, he explained. But the bailiffs were a problem. Then he went out to rejoin the procession.

What a gem of a place. Irish fiddles in every pub. The national anthem at 10.30 on the dot – the drunks being held up to attention by their collar, then dropped in a heap when the anthem was finished and the party went on.

What's wrong with a bit of patriotism?

Tailpiece

AN IRISH scrumhalf dies He stands before the Pearly Gates and a voice booms: "Seamus Murphy, do you have any unconfessed sins?"

"Well, I do," he says. "I have dis one sin dat's bothered me all me loif."

"What sin is that?"

"It was a test match against England at Lansdowne Road. It was the de last minute of de game. We were 11-9 down. Dere was a scrum on de English loine. Deir put-in. But we heeled a tighthead. Oi went round de blind side. But as Oi took de ball Oi fumbled it. Oi know Oi did, it was a knock-on. But de ref was unsighted, he never saw. Oi went over in de corner and de try was awarded. But Oi know it was a knock-on. Oi never owned up. We won de test. It's always been on me conscience."

"Seamus Murphy, that is no sin. You may enter."

"Oh, tank you, St Peter, tank you!"

"It's St Peter's day off. Dis is St Patrick."

Last word

Everybody gets too drunk sometimes; and even if everybody didn't, I have gotten too drunk sometimes. I haven't hurt anybody. In Ireland we drink a lot. It's part of our culture. I like drinking. I don't think it's a bad thing.
Andrea Corr

GRAHAM LINSCOTT