When an Irishman's a happy man,

He bubbles with delight,

But when an Irishman is sad,

He's a melancholy sight.

'Tis a fright the man becomes,

His face fair drops; his smile goes,

'Tis a man who's sunk down in the dumps,

A man befraught with ter-rible woes.

The saddest thing I've ever seen,

Is an Irishman de-twinkled,

If his Irish eyes can't smile and gleam,

Then he might as well be pickled.

The man's spirit is be-dimmed,

Something's missing in his life,

'Tis not a pint of Irish gin,

Nor a plump and jolly wife.

A man whose name is Hannigan,

Or Pat, or Tim, or Mike,

Can get his twinkle back again,

With a good, old Irish fight.

A loosened tooth, a bloody nose,

Are signs that life is good,

'Tis a happy man one now beholds,

In the Irish brotherhood.

The smile's back in his Irish eyes,

And the dimple's back in his grin,

And his split-lip fair testifies,

To the punch he took on his chin.

So the Irish on Saint Paddy's Day,

Oft hold festive Irish brawls,

And if they carry a man away,

Then a grand time was had by all!

Virginia (Ginny) Ellis Copyright March 2002
Used here with her gracious permission

Visit Ginny's Lovely World of Poetry
CLICK HERE