Erin Go Braugh "With a name like Kelly McColl, sure 'an yer an Irish lass! Come, have a seat, I've a tale to tell!" Quietly I take a seat next to this boisterous fellow and his companions, thinking they've started their celebration rather early in the day and eyeing them suspiciously. Much slapping on the backs occurs as more people order up Guinness. Not wanting such a disgusting looking beverage, I search for a wine list and find none. The twinkling in this fellows eye makes me nervous as he orders up an Irish Shillelagh for me. "'Tis a fruit drink, yer taste buds'll shout!" he bellows. I've never heard of it and for some reason, trust his judgement. "Tis a fruit drink", I'll be fine. He and his companions sit, smiling broadly. "So... Mr. Hanahan is it? What *is* St Patrick's Day all about?" I take out my notepad. His big hand whacks me on the back with a lusty guffaw. Toppling forward into the table with a loud gasp, I hastily resume my posture. "'Tis Michael! But a drink precedes a story!" he bellows, being served his beverage of choice. He lifts his glass, the entire table joining, I wait for a "Merry met and Happy St Patrick's day" toast. He stands and shouts to the room: "May your glass be ever full. May the roof over your head be always strong. And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead." Much shouting and laughter follow and I carefully sip my drink. He sits, sprawls in his chair is more like it and looks at me. "Ah so you'll be wantin' a lesson of St Paddy then! Tis a fella long ago, wantin' ta teach t'heathens about the Trinity, it 'tis! Up he plucked a shamrock, saved all ar' souls an' arses, and then he died." *lifting his glass and guzzling it dry* and mumbles "Saint's preserve us" I blinked. That's it? That's the legend of St Patrick? Shrugging, I finish the strong liquid and begin eating the fresh fruit it was garnished with. Thinking how very... tasty... the raspberries, strawberries and cherries are all of a sudden. Before I realize it, another round is placed among us. Before I have a chance to decline, the fellow bursts out laughing. Merry bunch they are. "'Tis a bad hen that does not scratch 'erself! Drink!" Confused, and not wishing to be a bad hen, I drink. And I begin to think this man to be the equivalent of an Irish Confuscious. "Tell me about the leprechaun?" I say, thoroughly enjoying this beverage now. Much laughter fills the room. "Ah 'tis a vile little man the leprechaun! Don't be foolin' yerself about the little devilish fiend for sure 'an you have to beat the secrets from him, and he be stealin' ya blind ever after!" They guzzle from their mugs. I am shocked and horrified! Admittedly I've always been after his treasure, but a "devilish fiend"??? I polish off my drink, eating again at the fruit at the bottom, disillusioned and mumbling out loud that I'll never eat Lucky Charms again. Again laughter errupts. "Ah but he's a toon!!! Put silk on a goat, and it's still a goat!" "Is your name O'Confuscious by chance?" I ask, as another drink is set before me. I hear a hollar from across the room directed to the fellow I'm speaking with. "Hanahan! Viewed from the side, your head bears a strikin' resemblance to a teapot !!!" My brows furrow. Yet all they do is laugh, with the hollared reply ""Shah! Tis the quiet pigs that eat the meal, shut yer gob O'Flarraty and drink!" It frightens me that I am starting to understand everything they say, finish my drink and toss a cherry into the air to catch it on it's way back down with a hearty giggle of pride to myself. More is placed on the table and greedily I lunge. I'm really beginning to enjoy this rowdy bunch. "Ah now go easy miss, 'tis a strong toxic yer imbibbin'!" O'Confusious quips. Grinning at him.. "That it 'tis, that it 'tis" the lilt suddenly falling easy from my tongue and not sounding the least bit foreign anymore. "But good as drink it 'tis, it ends in thirst!" I lean over and whack him on the back. He leans forward, elbows on the table, so I do the same. We're nose to nose. "Yanno, me and O'Flarraty were walking in the woods when we came to a sign sayin', "Tree Fellers wanted". I said "Ye'no, 'tis a shame Paddy isn't here. We could have had the job". He busts out laughing, slapping his thigh, leaning far back in his chair. I remain leaning on the table where I was, thinking he was serious for a minute, then realizing the joke. Finally finishing off my last drink, I try to stand and literally fall against O'Confuscious. He quickly stands, as does the entire rest of the room, glasses raised, arms interlinked, his voice rings out with the first verse of "Irish Eyes". Completely unable to carry a tune much less remember the words, I hum along, feeling the commradrie and the deep affection these people have for each other. As the melody dies down, the pub owner stands amongst us... "Sure an 'tis a shameful thing you lot, but one of ye must be payin' t'bill!" Hanahan looks at me, I look right back at him with a pie-eyed smile. "Ye've learned much about the holiday miss... now I'll be teachin' ye 'bout payin' fer t'celebration!" He swipes the tally from the owners hand and firmly plunks it down in front of his friend O'Flarraty while I draw my jacket on. ""Tis sweet to drink but bitter to pay for!" Chairs are pushed back. Drunken Irish wrestling has begun. I hastily stumble from the premises, all the wiser and mindful to beware the elusive evil leprechaun and in search of this Mr. Blarney Stone fella to lay a few smewches on. Take me home! Main Dave's Chronicles
Erin Go Braugh
"With a name like Kelly McColl, sure 'an yer an Irish lass! Come, have a seat, I've a tale to tell!"
Quietly I take a seat next to this boisterous fellow and his companions, thinking they've started their celebration rather early in the day and eyeing them suspiciously.
Much slapping on the backs occurs as more people order up Guinness. Not wanting such a disgusting looking beverage, I search for a wine list and find none. The twinkling in this fellows eye makes me nervous as he orders up an Irish Shillelagh for me.
"'Tis a fruit drink, yer taste buds'll shout!" he bellows. I've never heard of it and for some reason, trust his judgement. "Tis a fruit drink", I'll be fine.
He and his companions sit, smiling broadly.
"So... Mr. Hanahan is it? What *is* St Patrick's Day all about?" I take out my notepad. His big hand whacks me on the back with a lusty guffaw. Toppling forward into the table with a loud gasp, I hastily resume my posture.
"'Tis Michael! But a drink precedes a story!" he bellows, being served his beverage of choice.
He lifts his glass, the entire table joining, I wait for a "Merry met and Happy St Patrick's day" toast. He stands and shouts to the room:
"May your glass be ever full. May the roof over your head be always strong. And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead."
Much shouting and laughter follow and I carefully sip my drink.
He sits, sprawls in his chair is more like it and looks at me.
"Ah so you'll be wantin' a lesson of St Paddy then! Tis a fella long ago, wantin' ta teach t'heathens about the Trinity, it 'tis! Up he plucked a shamrock, saved all ar' souls an' arses, and then he died." *lifting his glass and guzzling it dry* and mumbles "Saint's preserve us"
I blinked. That's it? That's the legend of St Patrick? Shrugging, I finish the strong liquid and begin eating the fresh fruit it was garnished with. Thinking how very... tasty... the raspberries, strawberries and cherries are all of a sudden. Before I realize it, another round is placed among us. Before I have a chance to decline, the fellow bursts out laughing. Merry bunch they are.
"'Tis a bad hen that does not scratch 'erself! Drink!"
Confused, and not wishing to be a bad hen, I drink. And I begin to think this man to be the equivalent of an Irish Confuscious.
"Tell me about the leprechaun?" I say, thoroughly enjoying this beverage now. Much laughter fills the room.
"Ah 'tis a vile little man the leprechaun! Don't be foolin' yerself about the little devilish fiend for sure 'an you have to beat the secrets from him, and he be stealin' ya blind ever after!" They guzzle from their mugs.
I am shocked and horrified! Admittedly I've always been after his treasure, but a "devilish fiend"??? I polish off my drink, eating again at the fruit at the bottom, disillusioned and mumbling out loud that I'll never eat Lucky Charms again.
Again laughter errupts.
"Ah but he's a toon!!! Put silk on a goat, and it's still a goat!"
"Is your name O'Confuscious by chance?" I ask, as another drink is set before me.
I hear a hollar from across the room directed to the fellow I'm speaking with.
"Hanahan! Viewed from the side, your head bears a strikin' resemblance to a teapot !!!" My brows furrow. Yet all they do is laugh, with the hollared reply ""Shah! Tis the quiet pigs that eat the meal, shut yer gob O'Flarraty and drink!"
It frightens me that I am starting to understand everything they say, finish my drink and toss a cherry into the air to catch it on it's way back down with a hearty giggle of pride to myself. More is placed on the table and greedily I lunge. I'm really beginning to enjoy this rowdy bunch.
"Ah now go easy miss, 'tis a strong toxic yer imbibbin'!" O'Confusious quips.
Grinning at him.. "That it 'tis, that it 'tis" the lilt suddenly falling easy from my tongue and not sounding the least bit foreign anymore. "But good as drink it 'tis, it ends in thirst!" I lean over and whack him on the back.
He leans forward, elbows on the table, so I do the same. We're nose to nose.
"Yanno, me and O'Flarraty were walking in the woods when we came to a sign sayin', "Tree Fellers wanted". I said "Ye'no, 'tis a shame Paddy isn't here. We could have had the job".
He busts out laughing, slapping his thigh, leaning far back in his chair. I remain leaning on the table where I was, thinking he was serious for a minute, then realizing the joke.
Finally finishing off my last drink, I try to stand and literally fall against O'Confuscious. He quickly stands, as does the entire rest of the room, glasses raised, arms interlinked, his voice rings out with the first verse of "Irish Eyes".
Completely unable to carry a tune much less remember the words, I hum along, feeling the commradrie and the deep affection these people have for each other.
As the melody dies down, the pub owner stands amongst us... "Sure an 'tis a shameful thing you lot, but one of ye must be payin' t'bill!"
Hanahan looks at me, I look right back at him with a pie-eyed smile. "Ye've learned much about the holiday miss... now I'll be teachin' ye 'bout payin' fer t'celebration!" He swipes the tally from the owners hand and firmly plunks it down in front of his friend O'Flarraty while I draw my jacket on.
""Tis sweet to drink but bitter to pay for!"
Chairs are pushed back. Drunken Irish wrestling has begun.
I hastily stumble from the premises, all the wiser and mindful to beware the elusive evil leprechaun and in search of this Mr. Blarney Stone fella to lay a few smewches on.
