Happy St. Patrick's Day

Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling

From glen to glen, and down the mountainside.

The summer's gone, and all the flow'rs are dying.

'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.

But come ye back when summer's in the meadow

Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow.

'Tis I'll be here, in sunshine or in shadow,

Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy, I love you so.

And when ye come, and all the roses falling.

If I am dead, as dead I well may be,

Ye'll come and find the place where I am lying

And kneel and say an "ave" there for me.

And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me,

And, all my grave shall warmer, sweeter be,

For you will bend and tell me that you love me,

And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.

Oh, Danny Boy, Oh, Danny Boy, I love you so.

Oh how sad, but I love this song.  It reminds me of my sweet Grandpa with his Irish accent.  He'd sing this song, call my brother "chief," and drive my grandma crazy!  He smiled a ton and loved to play Uno with us.  He never quite caught on how to say "uno."  He pronouced it "you no."  It was endearing.  I can see his white thick hair, paper thin skin, big blue eyes, thin legs with his cane by his side.  He was a lovely, wonderful man and a purely delightful grandpa.  I wish he were still alive.  I think my relationship with him would be different -- of course as we grow and mature our relationships change.  But I would sit and talk with him more.  I'd go on walks.  I'd hold his hand.  And, when it came near the end of his life, I wouldn't feel so scared and ackward.  I was too young to really know how to handle that.  Going to visit was hard for me.  But, now...if I had the chance, I'd go visit every single afternoon without fear or anxiety.  I would just sit.  I'm pretty sure he knew I loved him, but I'd make sure there was no doubt in his mind.  So, to Grandpa and to all -- Happy St. Patrick's Day.