Erin go bragh!

An Irish toast for ye, me dearlings, for when ye hoist your wee dram:


May those who love us, love us.

And those who don't love us, may God turn their hearts

And if He won't turn their hearts, may He turn their ankles

So we'll know them by their limping


And what would this day be, then, without some singin' to go with the drink?


In Dublin's Fair City
Where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheel'd her wheel barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!

Alive, alive o!, alive, alive o!
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!

She was a fishmonger
But sure 'twas no wonder
For so were her father and mother before
And they each wheel'd their barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!

She died of a fever
And no one could save her
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone
But her ghost wheels her barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!