When I'm old the cut me And in a hole they put me When I am three months old They come looking me quite bold Between fire and water the burn me Between two irons the turn me And when I'm stripped of my skin They find a hole to put me in.
"THE BIG LITTLE BOOK OF IRISH WIT & WISDOM" Black Dog & Leventhal publishers, New York
Hidi Hadi on the wall Hidi Hadi got a fall Three men and threescore Wouldn't leave Hidi Hadi As he was before.
Yesterdays Answer: A potato
Elspeth and maggiemahone1 guessed correctly.
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May your days be filled with Merriment and May you walk in Balance with Creator.
I went to an insect like a grasshopper, but they aren't brown.........
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Compassion is the sometimes fatal capacity for feeling what it is like inside somebody else's skin. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too. - Frederick Buechner
If society prospers at the expense of the intangibles, how can it be called progress?
A hopper o' ditches A cropper o' corn A wee brown cow And a pair of leather horns.
“The Big Little Book of Irish Wit & Wisdom” Black Dog & Leventhal Publishers, New York
Through a rock, through a reel Through an old spinning wheel Through a bag of feathers Through an old mud wall If that’s not a riddle Ther’s no riddle at all.
Yesterdays Answer: A hare
maggiemahone1 guessed correctly.
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Through a rock, through a reel Through an old spinning wheel Through a bag of feathers Through an old mud wall If that’s not a riddle Ther’s no riddle at all.
“The Big Little Book of Irish Wit & Wisdom” Black Dog & Leventhal Publishers, New York
Brothers and sisters have I none But this man’s father Was my father’s son.
Who is it?
Yesterdays Answer: A moth
No body guessed correctly.
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"I am a Canadian by birth, but I am a Highlander by blood and feel under an obligation to do all I can for the sake of the Highlanders and their literature.... I have never yet spoken a word of English to any of my children. They can speak as much English as they like to others, but when they talk to me they have to talk in Gaelic."
-Alexander Maclean Sinclair of Goshen (protector of Gaelic Culture)
I washed my face in water That was never rained or run I dried it with a towel That was never wove nor spun.
“The Big Little Book of Irish Wit & Wisdom” Black Dog & Leventhal Publishers, New York
In a marble hall As white as milk Lined with a skin As soft as silk Within a fountain Crystal clear A golden apple doth appear No doors there are to this stronghold Yet thieves break in to steal the gold.
Yesterdays Answer: Wash in the dew. Dry in the sun.
No body guessed correctly.
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