Please RSVP if you have not so I can get a solid head count. We are getting closer.
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
TRAVEL UPDATE
Just an FYI - I will be taking a short hiatus. My beautiful bonus daughter is getting married on Saturday. Sunday we are leaving for Sicily and Ireland for a week. We need to get things planned for next year.
Please RSVP if you have not so I can get a solid head count. We are getting closer.
Please RSVP if you have not so I can get a solid head count. We are getting closer.
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
****IMPORTANT NOTICE****
If you are planning to attend our vow renewal festivities in Ireland and Italy - please use the link in the upper right hand to RSVP and tell me who will be in your party.
The link is called RSVP LINK
This will be a huge help. Plus it would be great to have email addresses for updates.
Transportation in Ireland
We will be providing a coach for transportation while in Ireland.
I will have everyone flying in spend Saturday night May 28th in Dublin. I will let everyone know ahead of time which Hotel we will use in Dublin. We will have the coach pick us up from there.
Right now the plan is as follows:
Saturday night - Dublin
Sunday and Monday night - Glenmore area (Waterford, Tramore, and Reception)
Tuesday - Limerick (Blarney Castle and Cork)
Wednesday - Galway (Cliffs of Moher)
Thursday - Skerries outside of Dublin
Friday - depart for Venice
Check out their website:
I will have everyone flying in spend Saturday night May 28th in Dublin. I will let everyone know ahead of time which Hotel we will use in Dublin. We will have the coach pick us up from there.
Right now the plan is as follows:
Saturday night - Dublin
Sunday and Monday night - Glenmore area (Waterford, Tramore, and Reception)
Tuesday - Limerick (Blarney Castle and Cork)
Wednesday - Galway (Cliffs of Moher)
Thursday - Skerries outside of Dublin
Friday - depart for Venice
As the dates gets closer I will let you know the exact accommodations in each city.
Slainte
Sláinte or slàinte (SLAHN-chə) is a word literally translating as "health" in several Gaelic languages and is commonly used as a drinking toast in Ireland and Scotland. Sláinte is the basic form in Irish Gaelic. Variations of this toast include sláinte mhaith "good health" in Irish (mhaith being the lenited form of maith "good").
Monday, September 21, 2015
Popular Irish Song Lyrics
Irish Rover
On the fourth of July eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the sweet cove of Cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand city hall in New York
'Twas a wonderful craft, she was rigged fore-and-aft
And oh, how the wild winds drove her.
She'd got several blasts, she'd twenty-seven masts
And we called her the Irish Rover.
We had one million bales of the best Sligo rags
We had two million barrels of stones
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides,
We had four million barrels of bones.
We had five million hogs, we had six million dogs,
Seven million barrels of porter.
We had eight million bails of old nanny goats' tails,
In the hold of the Irish Rover.
There was awl Mickey Coote who played hard on his flute
When the ladies lined up for his set
He was tootin' with skill for each sparkling quadrille
Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet
With his sparse witty talk he was cock of the walk
As he rolled the dames under and over
They all knew at a glance when he took up his stance
And he sailed in the Irish Rover
There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee,
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Jimmy McGurk who was scarred stiff of work
And a man from Westmeath called Malone
There was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule
And fighting Bill Tracey from Dover
And your man Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper of the Irish Rover
We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out
And the ship lost it's way in a fog.
And that whale of the crew was reduced down to two,
Just meself and the captain's old dog.
Then the ship struck a rock, oh Lord what a shock
The bulkhead was turned right over
Turned nine times around, and the poor dog was drowned
I'm the last of the Irish Rover
Listen here:
Irish Rover YouTube
The Irish Rover is an Irish folk song about a magnificent, though improbable, sailing ship that reaches an unfortunate end. It has been recorded by numerous artists, some of whom have made changes to the lyrics.
The origins of the song are uncertain but it is usually attributed to a little-known songwriter/arranger named J.M. Crofts. Crofts is listed as the author in the 1966 publication, Walton's New Treasury of Irish Songs and Ballads 2.
Some of the lyrics have become corrupted over time. For example, the opening line of one of the verses is often presented as: "We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out". Measles is actually a corruption of mizzens, which refers to the third and smallest mast on a ship. Both measles and mizzens are now commonly used in versions by different performers.
The singer describes a gigantic twenty-seven masted ship with a colorful crew and varied types of cargo in enormous amounts. Each successive verse is ever more malarkey about the wonders of the great ship. The seven-year voyage comes to a disastrous end after losing its way in the fog, striking a rock, and spinning nine times around before sinking with most of the crew (and the captain's old dog) - everyone except the singer, who in the last line of the song is revealed to be the lone survivor of The Irish Rover's ill-fated final voyage, so there is no one alive to contradict the tale.
Some of the lyrics have become corrupted over time. For example, the opening line of one of the verses is often presented as: "We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out". Measles is actually a corruption of mizzens, which refers to the third and smallest mast on a ship. Both measles and mizzens are now commonly used in versions by different performers.
The singer describes a gigantic twenty-seven masted ship with a colorful crew and varied types of cargo in enormous amounts. Each successive verse is ever more malarkey about the wonders of the great ship. The seven-year voyage comes to a disastrous end after losing its way in the fog, striking a rock, and spinning nine times around before sinking with most of the crew (and the captain's old dog) - everyone except the singer, who in the last line of the song is revealed to be the lone survivor of The Irish Rover's ill-fated final voyage, so there is no one alive to contradict the tale.
On the fourth of July eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the sweet cove of Cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand city hall in New York
'Twas a wonderful craft, she was rigged fore-and-aft
And oh, how the wild winds drove her.
She'd got several blasts, she'd twenty-seven masts
And we called her the Irish Rover.
We had one million bales of the best Sligo rags
We had two million barrels of stones
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides,
We had four million barrels of bones.
We had five million hogs, we had six million dogs,
Seven million barrels of porter.
We had eight million bails of old nanny goats' tails,
In the hold of the Irish Rover.
There was awl Mickey Coote who played hard on his flute
When the ladies lined up for his set
He was tootin' with skill for each sparkling quadrille
Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet
With his sparse witty talk he was cock of the walk
As he rolled the dames under and over
They all knew at a glance when he took up his stance
And he sailed in the Irish Rover
There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee,
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Jimmy McGurk who was scarred stiff of work
And a man from Westmeath called Malone
There was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule
And fighting Bill Tracey from Dover
And your man Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper of the Irish Rover
We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out
And the ship lost it's way in a fog.
And that whale of the crew was reduced down to two,
Just meself and the captain's old dog.
Then the ship struck a rock, oh Lord what a shock
The bulkhead was turned right over
Turned nine times around, and the poor dog was drowned
I'm the last of the Irish Rover
Listen here:
Irish Rover YouTube
Friday, September 18, 2015
Popular Irish Song Lyrics
Finnegans Wake
"Finnegan's Wake" is a ballad that arose in the 1850s in the music-hall tradition of comical Irish songs. In the ballad, the hod-carrier Tim Finnegan, born "with a love for the liquor", falls from a ladder, breaks his skull, and is thought to be dead. The mourners at his wake become rowdy, and spill whiskey over Finnegan's corpse, causing him to come back to life and join in the celebrations. Whiskey causes both Finnegan's fall and his resurrection—whiskey is derived from the Irish phrase uisce beatha (pronounced [ˈiʃkʲə ˈbʲahə]), meaning "water of life".
Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street, a gentle Irishman mighty odd
He had a brogue both rich and sweet, an' to rise in the world he carried a hod
You see he'd a sort of a tipplers way but the love for the liquor poor Tim was born
To help him on his way each day, he'd a drop of the craythur every morn
Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
One morning Tim got rather full, his head felt heavy which made him shake
Fell from a ladder and he broke his skull, and they carried him home his corpse to wake
Rolled him up in a nice clean sheet, and laid him out upon the bed
A bottle of whiskey at his feet and a barrel of porter at his head
Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
His friends assembled at the wake, and Mrs Finnegan called for lunch
First she brought in tay and cake, then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch
Biddy O'Brien began to cry, "Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see,
Tim avourneen, why did you die?", "Will ye hould your gob?" said Paddy McGee
Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
Then Maggie O'Connor took up the job, "Biddy" says she "you're wrong, I'm sure"
Biddy gave her a belt in the gob and left her sprawling on the floor
Then the war did soon engage, t'was woman to woman and man to man
Shillelagh law was all the rage and a row and a ruction soon began
Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
Mickey Maloney ducked his head when a bucket of whiskey flew at him
It missed, and falling on the bed, the liquor scattered over Tim
Bedad he revives, see how he rises, Timothy rising from the bed
Saying "Whittle your whiskey around like blazes, t'underin' Jaysus, do ye think I'm dead?"
Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
He had a brogue both rich and sweet, an' to rise in the world he carried a hod
You see he'd a sort of a tipplers way but the love for the liquor poor Tim was born
To help him on his way each day, he'd a drop of the craythur every morn
Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
One morning Tim got rather full, his head felt heavy which made him shake
Fell from a ladder and he broke his skull, and they carried him home his corpse to wake
Rolled him up in a nice clean sheet, and laid him out upon the bed
A bottle of whiskey at his feet and a barrel of porter at his head
Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
His friends assembled at the wake, and Mrs Finnegan called for lunch
First she brought in tay and cake, then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch
Biddy O'Brien began to cry, "Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see,
Tim avourneen, why did you die?", "Will ye hould your gob?" said Paddy McGee
Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
Then Maggie O'Connor took up the job, "Biddy" says she "you're wrong, I'm sure"
Biddy gave her a belt in the gob and left her sprawling on the floor
Then the war did soon engage, t'was woman to woman and man to man
Shillelagh law was all the rage and a row and a ruction soon began
Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
Mickey Maloney ducked his head when a bucket of whiskey flew at him
It missed, and falling on the bed, the liquor scattered over Tim
Bedad he revives, see how he rises, Timothy rising from the bed
Saying "Whittle your whiskey around like blazes, t'underin' Jaysus, do ye think I'm dead?"
Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
Thursday, September 17, 2015
Popular Irish Song Lyrics
This is absolutely one of our favorite songs. Nothing like listening to live music in an Irish pub with a pint in hand.
"Seven Drunken Nights" is an Irish version of a humorous folk song most famously performed by The Dubliners. The song is often referred to as "Our Goodman". It tells the story of a gullible drunkard returning night after night to see new evidence of his wife's lover, only to be taken in by increasingly implausible explanations.
According to Roud and Bishop.
According to Roud and Bishop.
"This was an immensely widespread song, probably known all over the English-speaking world, with the wording varying considerably but the structure and basic story remaining the same."In British Popular Ballads John E. Housman observes that "There is much of Chaucer's indomitable gaiety in this ballad. The questions of the jealous husband and the evasions of his wife are treated here in a humorous vein, and there are French ballads of a similar type."
Seven Drunken Nights
As I went home on Monday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a horse outside the door where my old horse should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that horse outside the door where my old horse should be?
Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely sow that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a saddle on a sow sure I never saw before
And as I went home on Tuesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a coat behind the door where my old coat should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that coat behind the door where my old coat should be
Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a woollen blanket that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But buttons in a blanket sure I never saw before
And as I went home on Wednesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be
Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But tobacco in a tin whistle sure I never saw before
And as I went home on Thursday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns them boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be
Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
They're two lovely Geranium pots me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But laces in Geranium pots I never saw before
And as I went home on Friday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a head upon the bed where my old head should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that head upon the bed where my old head should be
Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a baby boy that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a baby boy with his whiskers on sure I never saw before
And as I went home on Saturday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two hands upon her breasts where my old hands should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns them hands upon your breasts where my old hands should be
Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely night gown that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But fingers in a night gown sure I never saw before
As I went home on Sunday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a thing in her thing where my old thing should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that thing in your thing where my old thing should be
Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But hair on a tin whistle sure I never saw before
I saw a horse outside the door where my old horse should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that horse outside the door where my old horse should be?
Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely sow that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a saddle on a sow sure I never saw before
And as I went home on Tuesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a coat behind the door where my old coat should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that coat behind the door where my old coat should be
Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a woollen blanket that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But buttons in a blanket sure I never saw before
And as I went home on Wednesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be
Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But tobacco in a tin whistle sure I never saw before
And as I went home on Thursday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns them boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be
Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
They're two lovely Geranium pots me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But laces in Geranium pots I never saw before
And as I went home on Friday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a head upon the bed where my old head should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that head upon the bed where my old head should be
Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a baby boy that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a baby boy with his whiskers on sure I never saw before
And as I went home on Saturday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two hands upon her breasts where my old hands should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns them hands upon your breasts where my old hands should be
Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely night gown that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But fingers in a night gown sure I never saw before
As I went home on Sunday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a thing in her thing where my old thing should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that thing in your thing where my old thing should be
Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But hair on a tin whistle sure I never saw before
These lyrics may or may not be copyrighted!
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Popular Irish Song Lyrics
One thing you will truly enjoy in Ireland is Irish Music.
Irish Song Lyrics - Whiskey in the Jar It's as I was going over the Cork and Kerry Mountains
I met with Captain Farrel and his money he was countin'
I first produced my pistol and I then produced my rapier
sayin', "stand and deliver for I am your bold deceiver:
chorus:
mush a ring a ma dor um dah (4 claps)
whack for the daddy Oh (2 claps)
whack for the daddy Oh
there's whiskey in the jar (yell "HEY" with a simultaneous clap)
I counted up my money and it made a pretty penny
I took that money home and I gave it to my Jenny
she promised and she vowed that she never would deceive me
but the devil take the women for they never can be easy CHORUS
I went into my chamber for to take a little slumber
I dreamt of gold and jewels and for sure it was no wonder
but Jenny took my charges and filled them up with water
and sent for Captain Farrel to be ready for the slaughter CHORUS
It was early in the mornin' before I rose to travel
surrounded by the footmen and likewise Captain Farrel
I went for my old pistol for they'd stolen my old rapier
but I couldn't shoot the water so a prisoner I was taken CHORUS
If anyone can save me it's my brother in the army
I think that he is stationed in Cork or in Killarney
and if he would be here we'd be rovin' in Kilkenny
I know he'd treat be better than my darlin' sportin' Jenny CHORUS
Now some take delight in the fishin' and the fowlin'
others take delight in the carriage wheels a rollin
I takes delight in the juice of the barley
and countin' pretty women in the mornin' oh so early CHORUS
Checkout the youtube video:
Whiskey in a Jar
Whiskey in the Jar
"Whiskey in the Jar" is the tale of a highwayman or footpad who, after robbing a military or government official, is betrayed by a woman; whether she is his wife or sweetheart is not made clear. Various versions of the song take place in Kerry, Kilmoganny, Cork, Sligo Town, and other locales throughout Ireland. It is also sometimes placed in the American South, in various places among the Ozarks or Appalachians, possibly due to Irish settlement in these places. Names in the song change, and the official can be a Captain or a Colonel, called Farrell or Pepper among other names. The protagonist's wife or lover is sometimes called Molly, Jenny, or Ginny among various other names. The details of the betrayal are also different, being either betraying him to the person he robbed and replacing his ammunition with sand or water, or not, resulting in him killing the person.
I met with Captain Farrel and his money he was countin'
I first produced my pistol and I then produced my rapier
sayin', "stand and deliver for I am your bold deceiver:
chorus:
mush a ring a ma dor um dah (4 claps)
whack for the daddy Oh (2 claps)
whack for the daddy Oh
there's whiskey in the jar (yell "HEY" with a simultaneous clap)
I counted up my money and it made a pretty penny
I took that money home and I gave it to my Jenny
she promised and she vowed that she never would deceive me
but the devil take the women for they never can be easy CHORUS
I went into my chamber for to take a little slumber
I dreamt of gold and jewels and for sure it was no wonder
but Jenny took my charges and filled them up with water
and sent for Captain Farrel to be ready for the slaughter CHORUS
It was early in the mornin' before I rose to travel
surrounded by the footmen and likewise Captain Farrel
I went for my old pistol for they'd stolen my old rapier
but I couldn't shoot the water so a prisoner I was taken CHORUS
If anyone can save me it's my brother in the army
I think that he is stationed in Cork or in Killarney
and if he would be here we'd be rovin' in Kilkenny
I know he'd treat be better than my darlin' sportin' Jenny CHORUS
Now some take delight in the fishin' and the fowlin'
others take delight in the carriage wheels a rollin
I takes delight in the juice of the barley
and countin' pretty women in the mornin' oh so early CHORUS
Checkout the youtube video:
Whiskey in a Jar
Italian Word of the Day
Day 22 - Driving
NOTE: In Europe you won't find a gas station. There are petro stations. They call gasoline petro.
NOTE: In Europe you won't find a gas station. There are petro stations. They call gasoline petro.
- I want to rent a car.
- Desidero noleggiare una macchina. (deh-SEE-deh-roh noh-lehd-JAH-reh OO-nah mahk-KEE-nah)
- or Vorrei noleggiare una macchina (vohr-REY noh-lehd-JAH-reh OO-nah mahk-KEY-nah)
- Can I get insurance?
- Posso avere un'assicurazione? (POHS-soh ah-VEH-reh oo-nahs-see-koo-RAH-tsyoh-neh?)
- stop (on a street sign)
- stop (stohp)
- one way
- senso unico (SEHN-soh OO-nee-koh)
- yield
- dare la precedenza (DAH-leh lah preh-cheh-DEHN-tsah)
- no entry
- divieto di accesso (dee-VYEH-toh dee aht-CHEHS-soh)
- no parking
- sosta vietata (SOHS-tah vyeh-TAH-tah)
- or vietato parcheggiare (vyeh-TAH-toh pahr-kehd-JAH-reh)
- speed limit
- limite di velocità; (lee-MEE-teh dee veh-loh-chee-TAH)
- gas (petrol) station
- benzinaio (behn-dzee-NAH-yoh)
- or stazione di rifornimento (stah-TSYOH-neh dee ree-fohr-NEE-mehn-toh)
- or (in an highway) area di servizio (AH-reh-ah dee sehr-VEE-tsyoh)
- petrol
- benzina (only unleaded one) (behn-DZEE-nah)
- diesel
- diesel (DEE-zehl)
- or gasolio (gah-SOH-lyoh)
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
Short Break
I just wanted to let everyone following this blog know I will be taking a short break. I will be back on Monday September 14th.
PS - GO ND!!
PS - GO ND!!
Irish Customs Part 5 - Honeymoon
The word for honey is meala in Irish. The word for honeymoon is mi na meala, the month of honey, and refers to how the bride and groom spend that period of time.
Irish monks first produced the fermented honey brew called mead for medicinal purposes then found it could make well people feel even better.
Following the wedding, a sufficient amount of mead was given to the bride and groom, along with special goblets, so they could share the unique brew for one full moon after their wedding, thus the term honeymoon was coined.
It was believed that this delicate yet potent drink was the best way to ensure a good beginning for a new marriage, and was also believed to endow powers of virility and fertility.
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
Irish Customs Part 4 - the Claddagh Ring
One of the most popular rings that often is used as an engagement or wedding ring is the Claddagh Ring. This ring has a wonderful story associated with it, and to this day it retains it’s rich Irish history which has been shared from generation to generation.
According to 16th-century Irish folk lore, a fishing boat from the village of Claddagh was captured by Algerian pirates and the crew was sold into slavery. One of the crew was a young man by the name of Richard Joyce, who was to be married the same week he was captured. Instead, Richard found himself far away from his love and his homeland.
He was sold to a wealthy Moorish goldsmith who taught him the trade and, eventually, he became skilled enough to design a ring of special significance: the hands were for friendship, the crown was for loyalty, and the heart was for love.
Years went by, but Richard never forgot his sweetheart. Somehow, he managed to escape and make his way home to Ireland. When he arrived back in Claddagh, he discovered that his girl had never married. They were wed immediately, and the ring he gave her was the one he had designed and made while he was a slave.
Over the years, the design became extremely popular as a betrothal or wedding ring and took on even more significance. Worn on the right hand with the heart pointing out means that the heart is uncommitted. Worn on the same hand with the heart pointing in means that the heart is taken. Worn on the left hand with the heart pointing in means "Let Love and Friendship reign forever, never to be separated."
In the old days, Claddagh rings were worn widely by women on the west coast and off-shore islands of Galway. Often representing the sole major investment of a fishing family, they were handed down from mother to daughter. Now, many couples, even those not of Irish descent, are choosing the Claddagh symbol for their engagement and wedding rings. They are widely available, as are a wide range of other Claddagh accessories from earrings to cuff links. But one word of caution: it is said to be very bad luck for a person to purchase a Claddagh ring for themselves. It must be given or received as a gift.
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