When Irish Eyes Are Smiling
There's a tear in your eye,
And I'm wondering why,
For it never should be there at all.
With such pow'r in your smile,
Sure a stone you'd beguile,
So there's never a teardrop should fall.
When your sweet lilting laughter's
Like some fairy song,
And your eyes twinkle bright as can be;
You should laugh all the while
And all other times smile,
And now, smile a smile for me.
When Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, 'tis like the morn in Spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter
You can hear the angels sing.
When Irish hearts are happy,
All the world seems bright and gay.
And when Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, they steal your heart away.
For your smile is a part
Of the love in your heart,
And it makes even sunshine more bright.
Like the linnet's sweet song,
Crooning all the day long,
Comes your laughter and light.
For the springtime of life
Is the sweetest of all
There is ne'er a real care or regret;
And while springtime is ours
Throughout all of youth's hours,
Let us smile each chance we get.
When Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, 'tis like the morn in Spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter
You can hear the angels sing.
When Irish hearts are happy,
All the world seems bright and gay.
And when Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, they steal your heart away.
Saint Patrick was a gentleman,
he came from decent people,
In Dublin town he built a church,
and put upon't a steeple;
His father was a Callaghan,
his mother was a Brady,
His aunt was an O'Shaughnessy,
and his uncle was a Grady.
Then success to bold St. Patrick's fist,
he was a saint so clever;
He gave the snakes and toads a twist,
and banished them forever.
There's a dear little plant
that grows in our isle,
'Twas St. Patrick himself
sure that set it;
And the sun on his labor
with pleasure did smile,
And with dew from his eye
often wet it.
It thrives through the bog,
through the brake,
through the mireland;
And he called it the dear
little shamrock of Ireland—
The sweet little shamrock,
the dear little shamrock,
The sweet little, green little,
shamrock of Ireland!
—by Andrew Cherry, Irish Actor and Playwright (1762-1812)
FROM THE BREASTPLATE OF SAINT PATRICK
Christ be with me, Christ be within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger
Christ in hearts of all that love me
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.
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