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Views of the Irish

Andrew Greeley, Catholic priest and best-selling novelist recently wrote a series of
books , Irish Gold, Irish Lace, Irish Whiskey, and Irish Mist. He weaves tales describing
the Irish people . It shows the struggle with the British rule for centuries and the effects
on the thinking of the Irish people. He is able to portray their personalities and the mystic
and the "wee people" that was a part of their lives.

As a young couple was being counseled by a bishop preparing for marriage, a legal
problem was brought up and the bishop suggested that we should fight on every possible
occasion. "There'll be no problem about that, at all, at all, I said. "We're Irish and the
Irish love to fight."
"That is the myth about us, but I fear it is not true. We argue about unimportant
things and cover up the important. We hide the things we don't like, the offenses we think
have been done to us, the violations that we resent, the habits that drive us crazy. We
nurse them and treasure them and store them so that they fester. By the time we are
forced to talk about them, it is usually too late to deal with them."
"Tis true," Nuala admitted. "We reckon it is better to absorb something we don't
like than quarrel about i t . Offer it up for the souls in Purgatory. Then forty years later
we stick it to the one who has offended us. Sure, we never forget an insult, do we now?"
"Or an injury, real or imagined. " I agreed.
"I hardly think your marriage will fail, the bishop said. "But arguably it will be
much happier and richer if you don't let the sun go down on your resentments." page! 54,
Irish Whiskey

Greeley also included the definition of Whiskey: 1705-1715 short for whiskybae, water of
life

Many times through the years when guitars and ukes were poplar and there was a
gathering for dining and songs, this was one we sang. And especially in an Irish Pub.

In Dublin's fair city,
Where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes
She was a fishmonger
On sweet Molly Malone
But sure 'twas no wonder,
She wheeled her wheelbarrow
For so was her father and mother before
Through streets broad and narrow,
And they both wheeled their barrow
Crying, "Cockles and mussels
Crying,"Cockles and mussels
Alive, alive, oh!"
Alive, alive, on!"
Alive, alive oh!
She died of a fever
Alive, alive on!
And on one could relieve her,
Crying, "Cockles and mussels
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone,
Alive, alive, oh!
But her ghost wheels her barrow
Through streets, broad and narrow,
Crying, "Cockles and mussels
Alive, alive, oh!"