Irish

To be Irish some say,
Is a blessing of this day.
A celebration of our struggle,
To survive against some others.
To toiling, the laughter,
Through it all we persevere.
Many of us without our land,
Still hold a clover in a pocket,
Or a leprechaun or two.
A song and a jig,
And even a lullaby:
Tura lura lura li...
Our hearts across the sea,
Will never say good-bye.