Shame you’ll never witness real Irish culture, pal… You.could just move to Munster and soak it up.
Really?
Yes, really.
That’s amazing
You’ll never know, pal. You’ll never know.
Really?
Yes, really.
How much?
That’s amazing
Shame You’ll never know, pal. You’ll never know.
Really ?
Yes, really.
That’s amazing.
Really?
Your pal (the new Philip Bromwell) who does all the harmless “human interest” stories on the news had a report on doing the wren there. Some amount of simpletons yahooing and leppin’ around like halfwits in Dingle or somewhere. Thankfully this tradition appears to be rare enough on the eastern seaboard.
Anglicising of the western seaboard was more difficult .
Too thick to fish so pretended to be birds
Just dropped a few bob in the bucket. Collecting for the comhaltas… the wren is lovely tradition, like a lucky 15 of a Saturday.
Circumstances dictate my absence once again from this noble tradition of doing the rounds.
I will however be in attendance in the Abbey Bar for the final hurrah of our local troubadours.
A witty recitation (to accompanying piping) lauding the achievements of The Willies and our townie brethren (Ballinamore), while tearing the holes off our own lads, should provide the impetus to see us escape from Intermediate next summer.
Meanwhile the visitors have:
Blocked the fucking toilet.
Broken the wheels off the hoover.
Broken a Waterford glass cake-stand.
I’ll furnish a further report when I calm down. Jim Royle was right ; “Christmas my Arse”…