Today we celebrate with lifted pint,
A clover, rhyme, or limerick,
The homeland so rich and true,
A place colorful and thick.
Living in exile in a western land,
We long for a return to the land so green,
Where life is anything but bland or mean.
A call this morning brought bad news,
An email last night revealed more too,
Two Irish people in exile suffering so,
One sick, the other died in his home.
As we think about things bigger than us,
We are but a vapor, just molded from dust,
Looking forward to Heaven as our final destiny,
It must look like Ireland, green, beautiful and free.
AG
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