Friday, March 16, 2007

Wearing Of The Green

Irish Palm Pilot.

"You should never forget where you come" from that's what my old Grandfather used to say to me, the irony was that he grew senile and kept wandering off and forgot where he lived, silly old sod.
Recently I was reminded by a mysterious commenter named "Tim" that my people come from the Dal Riada, this was a tribe of North Antrim in Northern Ireland.
There was a steady flow of settlers to the adjacent coastal island areas of Scotland by the Dal Riada and so the kingdom grew. The Vikings (my other people) liked to float about and harass people back then which was a factor in the Kingdom of Dal Riada getting separated and more out of contact with the Antrim branch.
The Scottish part became known as Argyll which means 'coastland of the Gaels'.
The whole Protestant and Catholic thing really does a job on trying to forget where you cum from in Scotland as well as the North of Ireland, much ancient Gaelic history gets ignored and gets viewed as the enemies' history because many of them in the south of Ireland (being Catholic) still speak it.
All very silly if you look at the big picture, go back far enough and you find us all to be African .

I'm not going to play the I'm more Celtic than you game , I will celebrate St Patrick's day as I dislike the meddling proselytizing fucker and his day celebrates the day he died which I will so drink to.
I dislike the converting by the sword and spoiling the lives of the natives because someone got the idea they should be told about Christ and it was their duty to pollute their culture in the name of God so fuck you St Patrick the Tuatha De Danann send their regards you spoiler .

Here is a song I like which mirrors what happened in Scotland when the English outlawed all that was Scottish after the second Jacobite Rebellion to try to break the spirit of the people, it never worked of course.


O Paddy dear, and did ye hear the news that's goin' round?
The shamrock is by law forbid to grow on Irish ground!
No more Saint Patrick's Day we'll keep, his color can't be seen
For there's a cruel law ag'in the Wearin' o' the Green.

"I met with Napper Tandy, and he took me by the hand
And he said, "How's poor old Ireland, and how does she stand?"
"She's the most distressful country that ever yet was seen
For they're hanging men and women there for the Wearin' o' the Green."

"So if the color we must wear be England's cruel red
Let it remind us of the blood that Irishmen have shed
And pull the shamrock from your hat, and throw it on the sod
But never fear, 'twill take root there, though underfoot 'tis trod.

When laws can stop the blades of grass from growin' as they grow
And when the leaves in summer-time their color dare not show
Then I will change the color too I wear in my caubeen
But till that day, please God,
I'll stick to the Wearin' o' the Green