Irish I Wish
I’ll tell a secret, if you care to hear
One which the Irish prefer to keep dear.
Not only March 17th, every year,
You too can weave stories that bring a tear.
Do you wish?
Then come closer, I’ll whisper in your ear.
It will not hurt, just a story, don’t fear.
No need for travel to Ireland dear.
I will tell. . . .order me another beer!
I drink. . .Swish
A bit tipsy, but I’ll try not to slur.
The Blarney Stone, one need not inure,
lean out window, backward, when on tour.
Wait. . .I’m dry,. . . whiskey for me, this time sir.
Love the Irish!
Back to my story, yes, please do endure.
Do not kiss that rock, oh no, to be sure!
Just tell the others you did, that’s the cure!
For the gift of gab. . . it is just a lure.
Irish I wish.
The answer my friend, with a wink of eye.
When you have the gift. . . it’s easy heres why,
Say what you want in a big juicy lie.
Truth is boring, can make attentions die.
To the Irish!
– – June Nash