Your weekly dose of Irish ☘️📞
Feb 18, 2022 5:36 pm
Hi there,
Here's your weekly dose of Irish for Friday, February 18th 2022...
Irish Wisdom - A drink precedes a story.
Did you know? - The famous Irish movie “The Quiet Man” was filmed in Cong, Co. Mayo. More than 40,000 tourists seeking to take in the sights and sounds of the beloved movie visit the town of Cong each year. I have yet to visit Cong, have you?
Latest updates & news:
- Welcome new and old subscribers!
- I finally got around to completing my Irish inventions part 2! This one, I went into the technology side of things. It is incredible the types of things Irish people have invented. This includes the submarine, transatlantic phone calls and more! Find out on my post here.
- Did you notice? 👀Every week, I change the emoji in the subject line to match some content in this weeks weekly dose.
It is only 27 days until St Patrick's day 2022! ☘️
This week's posts:
🇮🇪 Dark Rosaleen, by James Clarence Mangan
This week I picked number 64 from the top 100 Irish poems list.
An Irish poem translated into English.
The poem Dark Rosaleen is a poem about love.
The post-Dark Rosaleen, by James Clarence Mangan, appeared first on Irish Around The World.
📞 Five Irish Inventions That Changed The World – Part 2: Technology
I hope you enjoyed part one of my Irish inventions that changed the world.
It was food-related, and I promised for ages now to come out with part two, technology.
The post Five Irish Inventions That Changed The World – Part 2: Technology appeared first on Irish Around The World.
🤣 A Collection Of The Funniest Irish Jokes
I think I have shared over 100 Irish jokes on the blog at this stage.
But I have also shared a unique Irish joke every week on my weekly dose …
The post A Collection Of The Funniest Irish Jokes appeared first on Irish Around The World.
🐎 American Who Travelled From Cork To Donegal By Horse, Ireland In 1997
Continuing with my weekly Irish history videos, I found this great clip from 1997. Don Saint John and his trusty horse ‘Steady’ saddle up for a five-month-long journey into the …
The post-American Who Travelled From Cork To Donegal By Horse, Ireland In 1997 appeared first on Irish Around The World.
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This week's Irish joke's:
Mike wakes up at home with a massive hangover. He forces himself to open his eyes, and the first thing he sees is a couple of aspirins and a glass of water on the bedside table. He sits up in bed and sees his clothing in front of him, all clean and ironed. He looks around the room and sees that it is in perfect order, spotless. He takes the aspirins and notices a note on the table which says, "Breakfast is on the stove, dear. I left early to go shopping. Love you!" He goes to the kitchen, and sure enough, there's a hot breakfast waiting for him and also the morning newspaper. His son is sitting at the table, eating. Mike asks, "Son, what happened last night?" His son says, "Well, Mam said you came home after 3 a.m; you stumbled in the door, threw up in the hallway, and passed out halfway up the stairs. Confused, Mike asks, "So, why is everything in order and so clean, and breakfast is on the table waiting for me?" His son replies, "Oh, that! Mam dragged you to the bedroom, and when she tried to take your trousers off, you yelled, "Leave me alone, woman, I'm a married man!"
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The wealthy American couldn't understand why the Irish angler was lying lazily beside his boat on the beach, smoking a pipe. "Why aren't you out fishing?" asked the American. "Because I have caught enough fish for the day," said the fisherman. "Why don't you catch some more?" "What would I do with them?" "You could sell them and make more money," was the American's reply. "With that, you could have a motor fixed to your boat and go into deeper waters and catch more fish. Then you would make enough to buy nets. These would bring you more fish and more money. Soon you would have enough money to own two boats... maybe even a fleet of boats. Then you would be a rich man like me." "What would I do then?" asked the fisherman. "Then you could really enjoy life." said the American. "And what do you suppose I might be doing right now?" said the Irishman, smiling and puffing away on his pipe.
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A longer one but worth the read. 🤣
There were two nuns. One of them was known as Sister Mathematical (SM),
and the other was known as Sister Logical (SL). It is getting dark, and they are still far away from the convent.
SM: Have you noticed that a man has been following us for the past thirty-eight and a half minutes? I wonder what he wants.
SL: It's logical. He wants to have his way with us.
SM: Oh, no! At this rate, he will reach us in 15 minutes at the most! What can we do?
SL: The only logical thing to do is to walk faster.
SM: It's not working.
SL: Of course, it's not working. The man did the only logical thing. He started to walk faster, too.
SM: So, what shall we do? At this rate, he will reach us in one minute.
SL: The only logical thing we can do is split up. You go that way, and I'll go this way. He cannot follow us both.
So the man decided to follow Sister Logical.
Sister Mathematical arrives at the convent and is worried about what has happened to Sister Logical. Then Sister Logical arrives.
SM: Sister Logical! Thank God you are here! Tell me what happened!
SL: The only logical thing happened. The man couldn't follow us both, so he followed me.
SM: Yes, yes! But what happened then?
SL: The only logical thing happened. I started to run as fast as I could, and he started to run as fast as he could.
SM: And?
SL: The only logical thing happened. He reached me.
SM: Oh, dear! What did you do?
SL: The only logical thing to do. I lifted my skirt up.
SM: Oh, Sister! What did the man do?
SL: The only logical thing to do. He pulled down his trousers.
SM: Oh, no! What happened then?
SL: Isn't it logical, Sister? A nun with her dress up can run faster than a man with his trousers down!
And for those of you who thought this would be off-colour, say two Hail Marys!
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So what is this week's top Irish poem?
This week I picked number 64 from the top 100 Irish poems list. An Irish poem translated into English.
The poem Dark Rosaleen is a poem about love. In fact, a love song about Ireland. At the time, any sort of political expression was outlawed. And this poem is supposed to be Hugh O’Donnell’s address to Ireland at a time when the Irish chiefs were expecting help from Spain and from the Pope.
This is James Mangan’s most famous poem “Dark Rosaleen,” which are a love lament and a political poem all in one. It was written in the dark famine year of 1846; Mangan published two powerful poems, Siberia and Dark Rosaleen, which clearly demonstrated there was a way to speak out. Enjoy this powerful Irish poem.
Dark Rosaleen
BY JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN
O my dark Rosaleen,
Do not sigh, do not weep!
The priests are on the ocean green,
They march along the deep.
There’s wine from the royal Pope,
Upon the ocean green;
And Spanish ale shall give you hope,
My Dark Rosaleen!
My own Rosaleen!
Shall glad your heart, shall give you hope,
Shall give you health, and help, and hope,
My Dark Rosaleen!
Over hills, and thro’ dales,
Have I roam’d for your sake;
All yesterday I sail’d with sails
On river and on lake.
The Erne, at its highest flood,
I dash’d across unseen,
For there was lightning in my blood,
My Dark Rosaleen!
My own Rosaleen!
O, there was lightning in my blood,
Red lighten’d thro’ my blood.
My Dark Rosaleen!
All day long, in unrest,
To and fro, do I move.
The very soul within my breast
Is wasted for you, love!
The heart in my bosom faints
To think of you, my Queen,
My life of life, my saint of saints,
My Dark Rosaleen!
My own Rosaleen!
To hear your sweet and sad complaints,
My life, my love, my saint of saints,
My Dark Rosaleen!
Woe and pain, pain and woe,
Are my lot, night and noon,
To see your bright face clouded so,
Like to the mournful moon.
But yet will I rear your throne
Again in golden sheen;
‘Tis you shall reign, shall reign alone,
My Dark Rosaleen!
My own Rosaleen!
‘Tis you shall have the golden throne,
‘Tis you shall reign, and reign alone,
My Dark Rosaleen!
Over dews, over sands,
Will I fly, for your weal:
Your holy delicate white hands
Shall girdle me with steel.
At home, in your emerald bowers,
From morning’s dawn till e’en,
You’ll pray for me, my flower of flowers,
My Dark Rosaleen!
My fond Rosaleen!
You’ll think of me through daylight hours
My virgin flower, my flower of flowers,
My Dark Rosaleen!
I could scale the blue air,
I could plough the high hills,
Oh, I could kneel all night in prayer,
To heal your many ills!
And one beamy smile from you
Would float like light between
My toils and me, my own, my true,
My Dark Rosaleen!
My fond Rosaleen!
Would give me life and soul anew,
My Dark Rosaleen!
O, the Erne shall run red,
With redundance of blood,
The earth shall rock beneath our tread,
And flames wrap hill and wood,
And gun-peal and slogan-cry
Wake many a glen serene,
Ere you shall fade, ere you shall die,
My Dark Rosaleen!
My own Rosaleen!
The Judgement Hour must first be nigh,
Ere you can fade, ere you can die,
My Dark Rosaleen!
What did you think of the poem?
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