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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=366552" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Good Lord Is Irish</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=366552" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Twas in a wee little kirk<br>Nestled deep in the heather<br>Where leprechauns lurk<br>mid fog and brash weather</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=366552" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Where wee Father Flanagan stood <br>Attired in black coat and white collar<br>Aponderin’ evil and good<br>E’ twas Five foot two and na’ taller</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=366552" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Aponderin’ the warld’ <br>and to how it might end<br>And how things might unfarl<br>When tis gone round the bend</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=366552" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">“Oh dear Lard, how twillit be when we go? <br>Twill all be gone, or will yet some linger? ”<br>To which the Lard replied in voice soft and low<br>“suure and I’ll show ye my son, just pull my finger.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=David+Whalen">David Whalen</a></strong></div>

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