A Drunken Man's Praise of Sobriety
Come swish around, my pretty punk,
And keep me dancing still
That I may stay a sober man
Although I drink my fill.
Sobriety is a jewel
That I do much adore;
And therefore keep me dancing
Though drunkards lie and snore.
O mind your feet, O mind your feet,
Keep dancing like a wave,
And under every dancer
A dead man in his grave.
No ups and downs, my pretty,
A mermaid, not a punk;
A drunkard is a dead man,
And all dead men are drunk.
Those of you who have known me for more than a year might recognize the poem. It is by Yeat's and is used by me to announce the annual "Irish Lent". I, being the good irish lad that I am, could never celebrate real Lent with St. Patrick's Day right in the middle of it. (For those of you non-catholics, Lent is the season before Easter where the catholics uphold their strong traditions of fear by use of guilt and give up something they hold dear for forty days starting w/ Ash Wednesday.) So, to make amends, I pro-rate lent and make it from the day after Superbowl until the Thurs. before St Pat's. Weird choice of days to come back off that doom impending wagon you ask? Thurs. are the weekly get beers after work with the boys night. And it is a perfect start to the weekend, the itinerary of which is as follows:
Thurs. night- beers at the brewery with the boys
Fri. night- the party
Sat. day/ night- the parade (what's 5 miles long , has an IQ of 45 and staggers) and pub hopping
Sun.- all day Irish movies and a huge dinner/ drinking fest with family and friends
Mon- dinner with the folks and then my favorite bar.
Tues-?- a lot of healing time
That's right kiddies, this irish fuck makes his holiday last for almost an entire week. (Hence the need for Irish Lent.) So, wish me well. I will have no sense of humor and no patience for bullshit starting this Monday. Be glad you don't work for me.
Come swish around, my pretty punk,
And keep me dancing still
That I may stay a sober man
Although I drink my fill.
Sobriety is a jewel
That I do much adore;
And therefore keep me dancing
Though drunkards lie and snore.
O mind your feet, O mind your feet,
Keep dancing like a wave,
And under every dancer
A dead man in his grave.
No ups and downs, my pretty,
A mermaid, not a punk;
A drunkard is a dead man,
And all dead men are drunk.
Those of you who have known me for more than a year might recognize the poem. It is by Yeat's and is used by me to announce the annual "Irish Lent". I, being the good irish lad that I am, could never celebrate real Lent with St. Patrick's Day right in the middle of it. (For those of you non-catholics, Lent is the season before Easter where the catholics uphold their strong traditions of fear by use of guilt and give up something they hold dear for forty days starting w/ Ash Wednesday.) So, to make amends, I pro-rate lent and make it from the day after Superbowl until the Thurs. before St Pat's. Weird choice of days to come back off that doom impending wagon you ask? Thurs. are the weekly get beers after work with the boys night. And it is a perfect start to the weekend, the itinerary of which is as follows:
Thurs. night- beers at the brewery with the boys
Fri. night- the party
Sat. day/ night- the parade (what's 5 miles long , has an IQ of 45 and staggers) and pub hopping
Sun.- all day Irish movies and a huge dinner/ drinking fest with family and friends
Mon- dinner with the folks and then my favorite bar.
Tues-?- a lot of healing time
That's right kiddies, this irish fuck makes his holiday last for almost an entire week. (Hence the need for Irish Lent.) So, wish me well. I will have no sense of humor and no patience for bullshit starting this Monday. Be glad you don't work for me.
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
Checking in on the reading and walking...I'm down a size! Feeling pretty good! (Ask me again how I feel after this work potluck thing)