It is indeed the Glorious 17th of Ireland, and we are celebrating with several of the great sons of the Emerald Isle--John O'Hara, Peter O'Toole, Eugene O'Neil, Frank O'Connor and Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wilde.
We have just sung several rousing choruses of "Wasn't It a Lovely Time That We Had at Finnegan's Wake." Next we'll raise the roof with "Phil the Fluter's Ball" and "Who Threw the Overalls in Mrs. Murphy's Chowder?"
The menu, of course, includes cock-a-leekie and colcannon, corned beef and cabbage, stovies and soda bread, Dinty Moore's Irish stew, and a great deal of Guinness with which to toast St. Patrick.
Now it's true that although we're all very jolly, not all of us are true lads of what the good Reverend Arthur Nash calls "The Holy Land." But happily, my mates have brought along some Old Bushmills, so I may have a drop of Irish in me.
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