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I had that stubborn streak, the Irish in me I guess.

quote by Gregory Peck
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Mean Streak

Well, you stand there honey, with you hands on your hips
Well, its stoppin your feeling, baby, button your lips
Yeah, you stand there honey with the devil in your eyes
You say youre gonna leave me, but I know its a lie
Uh uh honey, you got a mean streak
Uh uh baby, you got a mean streak
Well, if you wanna stay with me, be my lovin honey
You must lose your mean streak
You look so cute and you walk so nice
Oh but your hide is as mean and as cold as ice
Well, I found my heart, it was a big kind of faster
And I know I was living in disaster
Uh uh honey, you got a mean streak
Uh uh baby, you got a mean streak
Well, if you wanna stay with me, be my lovin honey
You must lose your mean streak
Well, youre standing there honey, and youre looking so pretty
Well, Im gonna leave you standing there in a pity
Well, you took my love and you threw it away
And I know whats gonna happen to you someday
Uh uh honey, you got a mean streak
Uh uh baby, you got a mean streak
Well, if you wanna stay with me, be my lovin honey
You must lose your mean streak
Yeah, mean streak
Oh baby, mean streak
Oh honey, mean streak
Oh, mean streak

song performed by Cliff Richard
Added by Lucian Velea
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Give Ireland Back To The Irish

Give ireland back to the irish
Dont make them have to take it away
Give ireland back to the irish
Make ireland irish today
Great britian you are tremendous
And nobody knows like me
But really what are you doin
In the land across the sea
Tell me how would you like it
If on your way to work
You were stopped by irish soliders
Would you lie down do nothing
Would you give in, or go berserk
Give ireland back to the irish
Dont make them have to take it away
Give ireland back to the irish
Make ireland irish today
Great britian and all the people
Say that all people must be free
Meanwhile back in ireland
Theres a man who looks like me
And he dreams of God and country
And hes feeling really bad
And hes sitting in a prison
Should he lie down do nothing
Should give in or go mad
Give ireland back to the irish
Dont make them have to take it away
Give ireland back to the irish
Make ireland irish today
Give ireland back to the irish
Dont make them have to take it away
Give ireland back to the irish
Make ireland irish today

song performed by Paul McCartney
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Potatoes' Dance

(A Poem Game.)

I

"Down cellar," said the cricket,
"Down cellar," said the cricket,
"Down cellar," said the cricket,
"I saw a ball last night,
In honor of a lady,
In honor of a lady,
In honor of a lady,
Whose wings were pearly-white.
The breath of bitter weather,
The breath of bitter weather,
The breath of bitter weather,
Had smashed the cellar pane.
We entertained a drift of leaves,
We entertained a drift of leaves,
We entertained a drift of leaves,
And then of snow and rain.
But we were dressed for winter,
But we were dressed for winter,
But we were dressed for winter,
And loved to hear it blow
In honor of the lady,
In honor of the lady,
In honor of the lady,
Who makes potatoes grow,
Our guest the Irish lady,
The tiny Irish lady,
The airy Irish lady,
Who makes potatoes grow.

II

"Potatoes were the waiters,
Potatoes were the waiters,
Potatoes were the waiters,
Potatoes were the band,
Potatoes were the dancers
Kicking up the sand,
Kicking up the sand,
Kicking up the sand,
Potatoes were the dancers
Kicking up the sand.
Their legs were old burnt matches,
Their legs were old burnt matches,
Their legs were old burnt matches,

[...] Read more

poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Billys 'Square Affair

Long Bill, the captain of the push, was tired of his estate,
And wished to change his life and win the love of something ‘straight’;
’Twas rumour’d that the Gory B.’s had heard Long Bill declare
That he would turn respectable and wed a ‘square affair.’
He craved the kiss of innocence; his spirit longed to rise;
The ‘Crimson Streak,’ his faithful ‘piece,’ grew hateful in his eyes;
(And though, in her entirety, the Crimson Streak ‘was there,’
I grieve to state the Crimson Streak was not a ‘square affair.’)

He wanted clothes, a masher suit, he wanted boots and hat;
His girl had earned a quid or two—he wouldn’t part with that;
And so he went to Brickfield Hill, and from a draper there
He ‘shook’ the proper kind of togs to fetch a ‘square affair.’

Long Bill went to the barber’s shop and had a shave and singe,
And from his narrow forehead combed his darling Mabel fringe;
Long Bill put on a ‘square cut’ and he brushed his boots with care,
And roved about the Gardens till he mashed a ‘square affair.’

She was a tony servant-girl from somewhere on ‘the Shore;’
She dressed in style that suited Bill—he could not wish for more.
While in her guileless presence he had ceased to chew or swear,
He knew the kind of barrack that can fetch a square affair.

To thus desert his donah old was risky and a sin,
And ’twould have served him right if she had caved his garret in.
The Gory Bleeders thought it too, and warned him to take care
In case the Crimson Streak got scent of Billy’s square affair.

He took her to the stalls; ’twas dear, but Billy said ‘Wot odds!’
He couldn’t take his square affair amongst the crimson gods.
They wandered in the park at night, and hugged each other there—
But, ah! the Crimson Streak got wind of Billy’s square affair!

‘The blank and space and stars!’ she yelled; ‘the nameless crimson dash!
‘I’ll smash the blanky crimson and his square affair, I’ll smash’—
In short, she drank and raved and shrieked and tore her crimson hair,
And swore to murder Billy and to pound his square affair.

And so one summer evening, as the day was growing dim,
She watched her bloke go out, and foxed his square affair and him.
That night the park was startled by the shrieks that rent the air—
The ‘Streak’ had gone for Billy and for Billy’s square affair.

The ‘gory’ push had foxed the Streak, they foxed her to the park,
And they, of course; were close at hand to see the bleedin’ lark;
A cop arrived in time to hear a ‘gory B.’ declare
‘Gor blar-me! here’s the Red Streak foul of Billy’s square affair.’

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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What Makes The Irish Heart Beat

(Van Morrison)
All that trouble all that grief
That's why I had to leave
Staying away too tong is in defeat
Why I'm singing this song
Why I'm heading back home
That's what makes the Irish heart beat
I'm just like a hobo riding a train
I'm like a gangster living in Spain
Have to watch my back and I'm running out of time
When I roll the dice again
If lady luck will call my name
That's what makes the Irish heart beat
Well that's what makes it beat
When I'm standing on the street
And I'm standing underneath this Wrigley's sign
Oh so far away from home
But I know I've got to roam
That's what makes the Irish heart beat
And it was off to foreign climes
On the Piccadilly line
We were standing underneath the Wrigley's sign
So far away from home
Well I know I've got to roam
That s what makes the Irish heart beat
Just like a sailor out on the foam
Any port in a storm
Where we tend to burn the candle at both ends
Down the corridors of fame
Like the spark ignites the flame
That's what makes the Irish heart beat
But I roll the dice again
If lady luck will call my name
That s what makes the Irish heart beat
Oh, that's what makes the Irish heart beat
That's what makes the Irish heart beat

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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When the Irish Flag Went By

’Twas Eight-Hour Day, and proudly
Old Labour led the way;
The drums were bearing loudly,
The crowded streets were gay;
But something touched my heart like pain,
I could not check the sigh
That rose within my bosom when
The Irish Flag went by.

Bright flags were raised about it
And one of them my own:
And patriots trod beneath it—
But it seemed all alone.
I thought of ruined Ireland
While crystals from the sky
Fell soft like tears by angels shed,
As the Irish Flag went by.

I love the dark green standard
As Irish patriots do;
It waves above the rebels,
And I’m a rebel too,
I thought of Ireland’s darkest years,
Her griefs that follow fast;
For drooping as ’twere drenched with tears
The Irish Flag went past.

And though ’twas not in Erin
That my forefathers trod;
And though my wandering footsteps
Ne’er pressed the “dear old sod”,
I felt the wrongs the Irish feel
Beneath the northern sky.
And felt the rebel in my heart
When the Irish Flag went by.

I tell you, men of England,
Who rule the land by might;
I tell you, Irish traitors
Who sell the sons of light,
The tyranny shall fail at last,
That changeful days are nigh;
And you shall dip your red flag yet,
When the Irish Flag goes by.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Gone At Last

Words & music by paul simon
The night was black, the roads were icy
Snow was fallin, drifts were high
And I was weary, from my driving
And I stopped to rest for a while
I sat down at a truck stop
I was thinking about my past
Ive had a long streak of bad luck
But Im praying its gone at last
Gone, gone at last, gone at last
Gone at last, gone at last
I had a long streak of that bad luck
But Im prayin its gone at last
00, oo, oo, oo, oo
I aint dumb
I kicked around some
I dont fall too easily
But that boy looked so dejected
He just grabbed my sympathy
Sweet little soul now, whats your problem?
Tell me why youre so downcast
Ive had a long streak of bad luck
But Im praying its gone at last
Gone, gone at last, gone at last
Gone at last, gone at last
I had a long streak of that bad luck
But Im prayin its gone at last
00, oo, oo, oo, oo
Once in a while from out of nowhere
When you dont expect it, and youre unprepared
Somebody will come and lift you higher
And your burdens will be shared
Yes I do believe, if I hadnt met you
I might still be sinking fast
Ive had a long streak of bad luck
But Im praying its gone at last
Gone, gone, gone at last
Gone at last, gone at last
I had a long streak of that bad luck
But Im prayin its gone at last
Gone, gone, gone gone gone gone
Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone
I had a long streak of that bad luck
But Im prayin its gone at last

song performed by Paul Simon
Added by Lucian Velea
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Miss The Lights

(intro) walking tall, full of tedious charm,
The smoothest (? ? ? ) in (? ? ? )
The mission boys all cross their palms
Dont you know who I am
I guess you miss the lights? huh!
I guess you miss the fame
I guess you miss everybody
Hanging onto your name
Little caesar is prince of the city
? ? ?
In this town theres no pity
This man stands alone
I guess you miss the lights - ha!
I guess you miss the fame
I guess you miss everybody
Hanging onto your name
Sometimes when youre all alone
And the blue turns to gray
Better get down on those pinky knees,
And you start to pray
I guess you miss the lights - ha!
I guess you miss the fame
I guess you miss everybody
Kiss-kissing your name
(instrumental)
A glimmering ? , a twilight star
And so much love for show,
A returning wave from the gallery bar
And share the afterglow
I guess you miss the lights
I guess you miss the fame
I guess you miss everybody
Hanging onto your name
Ha!
I guess you miss the lights
I guess you miss the fame, haha!
I guess you miss everybody
Hanging onto your name
(fade out music and chorus)
I guess you miss the lights
I guess you miss everybody
Kiss-kissing your name

song performed by Ufo
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Luck Of The Irish

Ok, one, two, three, one two, three
If you had the luck of the irish,
You'd be sorry and wish you were dead.
You should have the luck of the irish,
And you'd wish you was english instead.
A thousand years of torture and hunger,
Drove the people away from their land.
A land full of beauty and wonder
Was raped by the british brigands!
Goddamned!
Goddamned!
If you could keep voices like flowers,
There's be shamrock all over the world.
If you could drink dreams like irish streams,
Then the world would be as high as the mountain of morn.
In the 'pool they told us the story
How the english divided the land.
Of the pain and the death and the glory
And the poets of auld eireland.
If we could make chains with the morning dew,
The world would be like galway bay.
Let's walk over rainbows like leprechauns,
The world would be one big blarney stone.
Why the hell are the english there anyway?
As they kill with god on their side!
Blame it all on the kids and the i.r.a.
As the bastards commit genocide!
Aye! aye!
Genocide!
Okay!
You should have the luck of the irish,
You'd be sorry and wish you were dead.
You should have the luck of the irish,
And you'd wish you was english instead.
One more time!
You should have the luck of the irish,
You'd be sorry and wish you were dead.
You should have the luck of the irish,
And you'd wish you was english instead,
Hey, yes, you'd wish you were english instead.
- "thank you!

song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Losing Streak

Was I wrong about the world?
It's a beautiful new place
Where else could a creep like me
Meet such a pretty face?
Meeting everyday with the rising sun
Looking up, it's looking like
My losing streak is done
Used to always feel like
Wished that I was dressed better
Never had a lot of luck
Until I finally met her
Feeling like the weepin' weighed a ton
Lifted off my shoulders now
My losing streak is done
Always felt like giving in
To the feeling I can't win
But I took it on the chin
Now I'm finally cashin' in
??? everyday with the rising sun
Looking up, it's looking like
My losing streak is done
My losing streak is done
I said my losing streak is done
Did you hear me, I said
My losing streak is done

song performed by Eels
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Guess I Do It

Why do I do those things that I do?
I guess I do it,
For suspense and the danger.
Trying to give romance a chance.
And playing that love game again.

I guess I do it,
For suspense and the danger.

You want to see the preacher together?
Can we wait until the 38th of May.
And decide then when to announce,
That perfect day.

I guess I do it,
For suspense and the danger.
I guess I do it,
For the chance of romance.

I guess I do it,
For suspense and the danger.
I guess I do it,
For the chance of romance.

Why do I do those things that I do?
I guess I do it,
For suspense and the danger.
Trying to give romance a chance.
And playing that love game again.

I guess I do it,
For suspense and the danger.
I guess I do it,
For the chance of romance.
I guess I do it,
For suspense and the danger.
I guess I do it,
For the chance of romance.

I guess I do it,
For the chance of romance.
I guess I do it,
For the chance of romance.
I guess I do it,
For the chance of romance.

I guess I do it,
For suspense and the danger.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stubborn

Stubborn, stubborn
He was stubborn as a mule.
He refused to budge
in the world so cruel.
'Cause what good would it do,
one step or two?
It would get him nowhere
'cause the word's so cruel.

Stubborn, stubborn.
He was stubborn as a mule.
His eyes were defiant
with fire and fuel.
He'd been born into pain
where no one had cared.
He was alone in the world
but never was he scared.

He was just stubborn.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Enniskillen

Oh my heart beat high with joy elate,
When Danny rode in the Hunters’ Plate
On Enniskillen, the raking grey-
A mighty jumper, with power to stay!
Velvet muzzled, with eye of fire,
Clean-legged, slant –shouldered, and tough as wire,
Oh, the joy that can fill a colleen’s breast,
When her man and horse are dong their best!
The summer skies were without a cloud
O’er the heads of the frantic, cheering crowd,
As he led the field right into the straight,
And his eyes met mine, at the five-barred gate.
Then they thundered by, like a roaring flood,
And oh, good luck to the Irish blood!
The Irish blood that in horse or man
Has never ‘caved in’ since the world began.
He took the last leap, like a bird in the air,
Clearing the hurdle, straight and fair,
And Enniskillen won!

We’d been married for one long blissful year
Of hope and struggle, of joy and fear;
Our hearts were young, and our hopes were high,
And the star of love shone bright in our sky.
And I felt like a queen as I hushed to rest
The little bright head that lay on my breast;
But the air was stifling close and strange
With a scent of smoke from the burning range,
And I prayed for Danny, riding away
On a cattle hunt, on the gallant grey—
The smoke came down like a cloud of night,
And ranges and trees were blotted from sight,
When Enniskillen came galloping home,
His grey coat mottled and flecked with foam,
And Danny’s face was rigid and white,
“Come Sweetheart, we ride for our lives to-night;
Wrap this cloak around you, hold Baby fast,
And pray, till the danger be overpassed,
For the wind has arisen with whirling force,
And our lives depend on the dear, grey horse.

And on God’s good mercy.” – A streak of light,
Enniskillen went racing into the night
The dim stars peered from a reeling sky,
And wild bush creatures came rushing by;
As crash on crash the timber fell,
And the burning wind was a blast of hell.
But Danny held me with steady arm,
And the Babe, between us, slept safe from harm.

[...] Read more

poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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I Dont Wanna Know

Well you followed me this far
Did you find out whats inside
Can you tell me what Im doing
Is it something I should hide
I dont know for sure
I dont wanna find out what I left there for
Im not scared and Im not lonely
Saving all my money or my breath
Im not looking for an answer
Or anyone to second guess no
You told me all your secrets
And I filled you up with lies
Now Im living honestly
Because I said goodbye
I cant go home anymore
I dont wanna find out what I left there for
Im not scared and Im not lonely
Saving all my money or my breath
Im not looking for an answer
Im not asking anyone to second guess
I was losing all my senses
I was losing all control
It was getting so offensive
Now you want me back for more
And I just wont go
If you think you know the answers
Youve got a lot of gall
Cause it gives you satisfaction
Knowing nothing at all
I dont care anymore
And I dont wanna find out what I left there for
What I left there for
Im not scared and Im not lonely
Saving all my money or my breath
Im not looking for an answer
Im not asking anyone to take a second guess no
Im not scared and Im not lonely
Saving all my money or my breath yeah
Im not looking for an answer
Im not asking anyone to take a second guess no
Take a second guess yeah
Take a second guess yeah
(hey)
Take a second guess yeah
(hey)
Take a second guess yeah
Take a second guess
(I cant talk to you)
Take a second guess
(yeah, yeah I know)

[...] Read more

song performed by Indigo Girls
Added by Lucian Velea
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Borrowed Time

(olivia newton-john)
I saw the light but it was too late, too late
I wanted to fight but it was too great, too great to fight it
Guess Im loving on borrowed time
Didnt know that you could not be mine
Im the fool I guess
Im the fool I guess
I started to cry but I was cried out, cried out
Cause you opened my eyes but with the light out
I couldnt see it
Guess Im loving on borrowed time
Didnt know that you could not be mine
Im the fool I guess
Im the fool I guess
I begged you to leave her but it was too late, too late
Cause though you have deceived her
You knew that shed wait
Shed wait forever
Guess Im loving on borrowed time
Didnt know that you could not be mine
Im the fool I guess
Im the fool I guess
Guess Im loving on borrowed time
Didnt know that you could not be mine
Im the fool I guess
Im the fool I guess
Oh baby, Im the fool I guess
Oh now, Im the fool I guess

song performed by Olivia Newton-John
Added by Lucian Velea
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One Irish Rover

Tell me the story now
Now that its over
Wrap it in glory
For one irish rover
Tell me you wiser now
Tell me you older
Wrap it in glory
For one irish rover
Bridge:
I can tell by the light in your eye
That youre so far away
Like a ship out on the sea
Without a sail, youve gone astray
Tell me the facts real straight
Dont make me over
Make it come out alright
And wrap it in glory
For one irish rover
For one irish rover
One irish rover
One irish rover

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Springhill Mining Disaster

Bono: like to...Id like to try a song that I think weve only played once before, so. this is a city that a...a lot of irish people came to this city, right? so this time...this irish...t
Irish people came as rock and roll band, okay? so...but this is a folk song. its like...the irish kinda hold america in a very special place because, for over a hundred years or more, irish have come over here to find work and find a future. and they brouught with them songs, old irish folk songs that became old american folk songs. and, I hope maybe wed leave behind some songs one day. this is a song written by peggy seeger. its a song...i wished Id heard this song on the raidio during the miners strike in england a few years ago. this is called springhill mining disaster.
In the town of springhill nova scotia
Down in the dark of the cumberland mine
Theres blood on the coal, and the miners lie
In roads that never saw sun or sky
Roads--
Bono: shut up for a second, will you? stop whistling cause Im not in the beatles, okay? its u2 here.
In the town of springhill
They dont sleep easy
Often the earth will tremble and roll
When the earth is restless
Miners die
Bone and blood is the price of coal
Bone and blood is the price of coal
Listen to the shouts of the black faced miner
Listen to the call of the rescue team
We have no water, light or bread
So were living on songs and hope instead
Living on songs and hope instead
In the town of springhill nova scotia
Down in the dark of the cumberland mine
Theres blood on the coal, and the miners lie
In roads that never saw sun or sky
Roads that never saw sun nor sky
In the town of springhill
Dont sleep easy
Often the earth will tremble and roll
When the earth is restless
Miners die
Bone and blood is the price of coal
Bone and blood is the price of coal
Bone and blood is the price of coal
Bono: thanks for your patience. thank you.

song performed by U2
Added by Lucian Velea
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Spenser's Island

has not altered;--
a place as kind as it is green,
the greenest place I've never seen.
Every name is a tune.
Denunciations do not affect
the culprit; nor blows, but it
is torture to him to not be spoken to.
They're natural,--
the coat, like Venus'
mantle lined with stars,
buttoned close at the neck,-the sleeves new from disuse.

If in Ireland
they play the harp backward at need,
and gather at midday the seed
of the fern, eluding
their "giants all covered with iron," might
there be fern seed for unlearn-
ing obduracy and for reinstating
the enchantment?
Hindered characters
seldom have mothers
in Irish stories, but they all have grandmothers.

It was Irish;
a match not a marriage was made
when my great great grandmother'd said
with native genius for
disunion, "Although your suitor be
perfection, one objection
is enough; he is not
Irish." Outwitting
the fairies, befriending the furies,
whoever again
and again says, "I'll never give in," never sees

that you're not free
until you've been made captive by
supreme belief,--credulity
you say? When large dainty
fingers tremblingly divide the wings
of the fly for mid-July
with a needle and wrap it with peacock-tail,
or tie wool and
buzzard's wing, their pride,
like the enchanter's
is in care, not madness. Concurring hands divide

flax for damask
that when bleached by Irish weather

[...] Read more

poem by Marianne Moore
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If You're Lucky Enough To Be Irish

If you're lucky enough to be Irish
Then you're lucky enough they say.
I count my Irish blessings,
As I breathe the air each day.
When I'm somewhere o'er the water
Not walking Erin's shore,
I know my resting place will be
In Ireland for evermore.
I have Irish songs on my lips,
And Irish blood in my veins,
So I tell you I'm lucky to be Irish,
And I'll keep telling you over again.
I'm lucky enough to be Irish.
My children who walk by my side,
Will I hope, too feel the calling,
And someday walk Erin's fields wide.

poem by Rosi Caswell
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O'Hanlon's Gold

O' Hanlon is the name,
And smuggling was the game.
A little highway robbery,
To balance society's snobbery.
A highway man named edmond,
A twinkling eyed rough diamond,
Relieved the rich of excess
To help the poor to success,
With raising up their families,
To adulthood, not graveside trees.
The famine they survived it,
By sticking as a unit.
Some called them 'fightin' Irish',
With shillelagh, pipes and feistiness.
The Claddagh handshake signifies,
Their friendship, love; it verifies
That battles were fought yesterday,
O' Hanlon's name on lips today,
Does typify the Irish love,
And loyalty, travelling hand in glove,
With friendship quite unending.
The Irish hand befriending
A person who is so in need.
Deploring avaricious greed.
The Irish mind and spirit,
Sings, dances with the merit,
Of luck, as only they receive,
From Universe, we can perceive,
That if you have the Irish blood,
No one can tell you that you should.
O' Hanlon stands for freedom,
Of all on earth and kingdom.
They fought then for the privilege,
To live in peace on plain or ridge.
To raise their children in dignity,
Not sunk in ignominity,
But standing upright, proud and tall
Shoulders and head above them all.
O' Hanlon stands for Eire.
Ambassador, friend, carer.
So stand proud if you dare.
Rub shoulders, be aware,
That the Irish handshake is for life,
Through sunshine, hail, or bitter strife.
So if you have the fortune,
To find yourself in opportune,
Position to call O' Hanlon friend,
Ireland will nurture you to the end.

poem by Rosi Caswell
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