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Folklore and Writings
of St. Patrick
In Down three saints one grave do fill, Brigid, Patrick and Columcille.
- John De Courcy,1219
I am Patrick, a sinner, the least learned of men, least of all the faithful most worthless in the eyes of many-St Patrick,Confessions.
Now it's love since you'll have me, I'll pray you remember.
You must use me genteel, for you know I'm but tender,
She was three-score and ten on the nineteenth of November,
On Patrick's Day in the Morning
- Annon,19th Century-"On Patrick's Day in the Morning"
When good Saint Patrick banished snakes he shook'em from his garments. He never thought we'd go abroad to live among such varmints. Now quit this land where
whiskey brews to wear the Yankee button- Take vinegar for mountain dew and toads for mountain mutton!
Proud Caesar fell down right before him,
And groveled his length as he lay
Then he knelt to the Saint, to adore him,
But Fin-ma-Cool dragged him away,
He rose, seemed desirous to linger,
So Brian Boru bade him ``Go"
Saint Patrick, he lifted his finger,
But Fin-ma-Cool lifted his toe.
-New Ode to St. Patrick,J.C.Wilson.
...not to use water for drink,
The people of Ireland determine
With mighty good reason, I think,
Since St Patrick has filled I with vermin
And vipers and other such stuff!
You've heard I suppose, long ago,
How the snakes, in a manner most antic
He marched to the County Mayo,
And trundled them into th' Atlantic
-William Maginn
Hear ye, all that love God, of the merits of a man blessed in Christ, Patrick the Bishop, like to the angels because of his good works and equal to the apostles in the
sanctity of his life-Sechnall.
Anyone acquainted with Ireland knows that the morning of St. Patrick's Day consists of the night of the 17th of march flavored strongly with the morning of the 18th-
Robert J. Martin
There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle, T'was St. Patrick himself sure that set it...It thrives through the bog, through the mireland . And he called it the dear
little shamrock of Ireland-Andrew Cherry
Ireland never was contented....Say you so?
You are demented!
Ireland was contented when.
All could use the sword an pen.
And when Tara rose so high.
That her turrets split the sky,
And about her courts were seen
Liveried angels robed in green
Wearing by St. Patrick's Bounty
Emeralds Big as half the county
-W.S.Landor.
St. Patrick's Day the warm side of a stone turns up, and the broad-back of the goose begins to lay inwards-Proverb
On the high day of Patrick, every fold will have a cow-calf, and every pool a salmon-Gaelic Saying
St. Patrick's, the holy and tutular man
His beard down his bosom like Aaron's ran:
Some from Scotland, some from Wales, will declare that he came,
But I care not from whence now he's risen to fame;
The pride of the world and his enemies scorning
I will drink to St. Patrick, today in the Morning!
He's a desperate big, little Erin go brah;
He will pardon our follies and promise us joy,
By the mass, by the Pope, by St. Patrick so long
As I live, I will give him a beautiful song!
No saint is so good, Ireland's country adorning:
Then hail to St. Patrick, today, in the morning!
-Traditional Dublin Song
St. Patrick, as in legends told,
The morning being very cold,
In order to assuage the weather,
Collected bits of ice together;
Then gently breathed upon the pyre,
When every fragment blazed on fire.
Oh! If the saint had been so kind
As to have left the gift behind
To such a lovelorn wretch as me,
Who daily struggles to be free
I'd be content-content with part
I'd only ask to thaw the heart,
The frozen heart, of Polly Roe.
Patrick was a Gentleman
Patrick was a gentleman
Came from decent people,
He built a church in Dublin town
And on it put a steeple.
His father was a Gallagher,
His mother was a Grady,
His aunt was an O'Shaughnessy,
His uncle was a Brady.
The Wicklow hills are very high
And so is the hill of Howth, sir,
But there's a hill much higher still,
Much higher than them both, sir.
On the top of this high hill
St Patrick preached his sermon
Which drove the fogs into the bogs
And banished all the vermin.
There's not a mile of Eireann's Isle
Where dirty vermin musters
But there he put his dear fore-foot
And murdered them in clusters.
The frogs went hop and the toads went pop,
Slapdash into the water,
And the snakes committed suicide
To save themselves from slaughter,
Nine hundred thousand reptiles blue
He charmed with sweet discourses
And dined on the m in Killaloe
On soups and second courses,
Where blind worms crawling in the grass
Disgusted all the nation,
Right down to Hell with a holy spell
He changed their situation.
No wonder that them Irish lads
Should be so gay and risky
Sure St. Pat he taught them that
As well as making whiskey.
No wonder that the saint himself
Should understand distilling
For his mother kept a shebeen shop
In the town of ?Enniskillen.
Was I but so fortunate
As to be back in Munster,
I'd be bound that from that ground
I never more would once stir.
There St. Patrick planted turf,
Cabbages and parties,
Pigs galore, mo gra, mo stor,
Alter boys and ladies
.-Christy Moore(from old broadside ballads)
Patrick's Arrival
You've heard of St. Denis of France,
He never had much for to brag on.
You've heard of St. George and his lance,
Who killed old heathenish dragon.
The Saints of the Welshmen and Scot
Are a couple of pitiful pipers,
And might just as well go to pot
When compared to the patron of vipers:
St. Patrick of Ireland, my dear
He sailed to the Emerald Isle
On a lump of paving stone mounted.
He beat the steamboat by a mile
Which mighty good sailing was counted.
Says he, The salt water, I think,
Has made me unmerciful thirsty,
So bring be a flagon to drink
To wash down the mulligrups, burst ye,
Of drink that is fit for a saint.
He preached then with wonderful force,
The ignorant natives a-teaching.
With wine washed down each discourse
For says he, I detest your dry preaching."
The people in wonderment struck
At a pastor so pious and civil,
Exclaimed, ``We're for you, my oul buck,
And we'll heave our blind Gods to the devil
Who dwells in hot water below."
This finished, our worshipful man
Went to visit an elegant fellow
Whose practice each cool afternoon
Was to get most delightfully mellow.
That day with a barrel of beer
He was drinking away with abandon
Says Patrick its grand to be here.
I drank nothing to speak of since landing,
So give me a pull from your pot.
He lifted the pewter in sport,
Believe me, I tell you its no tale.
A gallon he drank from the quart
And left it back full on the table.
``A miracle!" everyone cried
And all tooka pull on the Stingo.
They were mighty good hands at that trade
And they drank till they fell yet, by Jingo,
The pot it still frothed o'er the brim.
Next day, said the host, its a fast
And I've nothing to eat but cold mutton."
On Fridays who'd make such repast
Except an unmerciful glutton
Said Pat, Stop that nonsense, I beg.
What you tell me is nothin but gammon.
When the host brought down the lamb's leg,
Pat ordered it turned into salmon,
And the leg most politely complied.
Youve heard I suppose long ago
How the snakes in a manner most antic,
He marched to the county Mayo
And ordered them all into the Atlantic.
Hence never use water to drink-
The people of Ireland determine
With mighty good reason, I think,
For Patrick has filled it with vermin
And snakes and other such things.
He was as fine a man
As youd meet from Fairhead to Kilcrumper.
Though under the sod he is laid
Let's all drink his health in a bumper,
I wish he was here that my glass
He might by art magic replenish,
But since he is not why, alas,
My old song must come to a finish
Because all the drink it is gone!
-Christy Moore,Traditional
Song to St. Patrick tune:Derry Air)
On this bright day
We praise you, good St. Patrick
A man of God
Our patron for so long
You brought the faith
That has so well sustained us
That in the face of hardship
Has ever kept us strong
And in your hand,
You hl=old the blessed Shamrock:
Three leaves to teach
The triune Mystery
Down through the years
Your lesson still inspires us:
By your teaching and example
We have been set free.
Perhaps now more than ever
We ask your help
Beloved bishop still
Your constant faith
And trust in God ne'er wavering
Burn bright as Easter fire
On Tara's distant hill
We prayed for peace
Throughout your land of Erin
We asked your help
That ancient wounds be healed
And now we see
A new day's dawn is brightening
Though peace you helped to gain
God's mercy is revealed!
Stand with us now,
Oh blessed friend and pastor
As we begin
To build our land anew
And those who add
Their prayers and good intentions
Throughout the world-
We pray you bless them too
For everywhere
We fight the pagan forces
The very same
You helped us once subdue
Be with us now, our intercessor always
And to the teachings of our faith
We will stay true!-
Bill Black
In 1831, to test the story of St. Patrick and the serpents, Mr. James Cleland, an Irishman, brought from England six snakes. He turned them out in his garden at Rath-Gael. A few days later
a yokel, thinking it was an eel that he had found, took one of the snakes to Dr. J.L. Drummond, a celebrated Irish naturalist, who said it was an eel. The idea of a ``rale living sarpint" being
found so close to the grave of St. Patrick caused a sensation among the country people. One clergyman preached a sermon that this was the sign of the approaching millennium. Another
saw it as a harbinger of plague. A reward was offered, and some of the snakes were killed some miles from Mr. Cleland's garden. It is not known what happened to the others....
When he was dying he bade his lamenting followers not to grieve but to rejoice ht his easy exit, and asked them each to have a ``drop to drink" which is why Irishmen have a ``crathur" on
March 17. After the meal the people would sit for the remainder of the evening over a ``Patrick's pot". The shamrock is ``drowned" in the last drink of the night. The next day is Sheelah's
Day. (Hone 1878 II,192)
The Shamrock: The trefoil is called in Arabic the shamrakh. Pliny said that the serpent is never found on the trefoil, and said the plant was effective against the stings of snakes and
scorpions-(Chambers, 1881)
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