There's a dear little plant that grows in our Isle Twas St . Patrick himself, sure, that set it; And the sun of his labour with pleasure did smile, And with dew from his eye often wet it. It grows through the bog, through the brake, through the Mireland, and they call it the dear little shamrock of Ireland.
At least I didn't come up with "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey. It was the unofficial theme song of the White Sox this year. I like the song, but I consider Journey as rock for people who are rock intolerant.
May the Irish hills caress you. May her lakes and rivers bless you. May the luck of the Irish enfold you. May the blessings of Saint Patrick behold you.