good day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!searching re: thomas foley, b 1825(7), galway...........marr. margaret kelley, NS, they both died here Portland, Mr, 1906/1928.......dau. of James/ellen regan sheehan, Mary ellen, m. patrick thos foley, 1858 NS, d here 1928................ty for any info dorothy foley doble

IT'S SPRING ALRIGHT! Ah, it's spring alright The days are short and black The wind howls, the rain lashes, and meets in great areas of boggy nothingness. Stranded sheep call for a raft and gaze mournfully at white-topped mountains where their cousins are surely huddled. You can't keep your ould boots free of mud and muck, the fire won't light with damp sticks and the turf is soft and crumbles at your touch. Washed clothes lurk about the house and emit a foggy vapour as they slowly dry. Windows chatter in their frames and the 'oil level' lessens every day. And then ... A shy snowdrop catches your eye. A golden wild pansy winks at you from the ditch. There's a stretch in the days. The welcome sunlight shows you cobwebs here and there. Playful lambs show off their newly-mastered acrobatics. Daffodils nod "yes yes" in the breeze. The meadows awaken from their sodden sleep and get busy growing. Above all the callings of excited birds you hold your breath for the call of the cuckoo ... It's spring alright! -- Eileen T. McGOVERN, "Leitrim Guardian" yearly magazine 2003.

Ancestry has added in the past week or so this new data base. Steve Morse has added a easy one step search at: http://www.stevemorse.org/ The link is next to last, under Other Ports of Immigration. -- Pat Connors, Sacramento CA http://www.connorsgenealogy.com

THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD The muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo! No more on life's parade shall meet The brave and fallen few. On Fame's eternal camping ground Their silent tents are spread, And glory guards with solemn round The bivouac of the dead. No rumor of the foe's advance Now swells upon the wind, Nor troubled thought of midnight haunts, Of loved ones left behind; No vision of the morrow's strife The warrior's dreams alarms, No braying horn or screaming fife At dawn to call to arms. Their shivered swords are red with rust, Their plum'ed heads are bowed, Their haughty banner, trailed in dust, Is now their martial shroud -- And plenteous funeral tears have washed The red stains from each brow, And the proud forms by battle gashed Are free from anguish now. The neighing troop, the flashing blade, The bugle's stirring blast, The charge -- the dreadful cannonade, The din and shout, are passed; Nor war's wild notes, nor glory's peal Shall thrill with fierce delight Those breasts that nevermore shall feel The rapture of the fight. Like the fierce Northern hurricane That sweeps the great plateau, Flushed with the triumph yet to gain, Come down the serried foe, Who heard the thunder of the fray Break o'er the field beneath, Knew the watchword of the day Was "Victory or death!" Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead, Dear is the blood you gave -- No impious footstep here shall tread The herbage of your grave. Nor shall your glory be forgot While Fame her record keeps, Or honor points the hallowed spot Where valor proudly sleeps. Yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone In deathless song shall tell, When many a vanquished year hath flown, The story how you fell. Nor wreck nor change, nor winter's blight, Nor time's remorseless doom, Can dim one ray of holy light That gilds your glorious tomb. -- Theodore O'Hara, from "The Best Loved Poems of the American People," ed. H. Felleman (Doubleday/NY 1936).

On 3/25/07, [email protected] <[email protected]> wrote: > > > Don't miss visiting the Irish Rover in Sarasota. Paul Duffy and > Bob Vesey > have a wonderful thing going. In GulfGate area, Gateway Drive. Worth > the > time! Barbara This was my second year in Port Charlotte for St. Patrick's day. Because of the drive, we didn't get up to Sarasota but this year went to the Celtic Ray in Punta Gorta. It was great and we have also gone there for lunch and they have a good Shephard's Pie. Maybe next year, I'll get up to Sarasota, thanks for the suggestion. -- Pat Connors, Sacramento CA http://www.connorsgenealogy.com

*Sunday Telegraph Article : Salute to a brave and modest nation - Kevin Myers, The Sunday Telegraph LONDON - * *Kevin Myers is Irish , lives in Kildare .* * **Until the deaths of Canadian soldiers killed in Afghanistan , probably almost no one outside their home country had been aware that Canadian troops are deployed in the region. And as always, Canada will bury its dead, just as the rest of the world, as always will forget its sacrifice, just as it always forgets nearly everything Canada ever does. ** I'm not quite sure why this article is appearing in the Irish American board, nor why it was written, but it does raise some interesting points. As far as Canada being a wallflower, so be it, that's a choice. Every country must "toot its own horn," just as an employee can't sit back and wait for a boss to notice his/her talents, if they want to advance. I live in the United States, my father was ienlisted in the Canadian Army in WWII, and was brought back to the States to serve in the US Army. I also knew that there were Canadian troops in Iraq. Every informed American should know and care about our friends and supporters This isn't information hidden under a rock! I've been to Toronto, Montreal and Quebec. I feel that Canadians pretty much keep to themselves, and I find them neither overly helpful or overly friendly in their shops, and God forbid, one doesn't speak French when visiting Quebec! Perhaps its just the French attitude of that "region." I think the country is very regional still, not terribly connected in the sense that the United States are "United". Perhaps that it why it doesn't sing it's own praises as a Country. Our President appears on TV and says "God Bless America", and whether one agrees with the sentiment, he's still there to remind us that we are one country. Just my opinion, Patricia

The Kilkeel book "An Old Timer Talking", narrated by Hugh Marks, has been put on line by Mary Lennon.permission of the Mourne Observer. http://www.lennonwylie.co.uk This book gives family names and places from the Kilkeel area, valuable information for people researching ancestors in this area, photographs, poems, stories, songs, a must for the Kilkeel researchers. Raymond

DISAPPOINTMENT Her hair was a waving bronze and her eyes Deep wells that might cover a brooding soul; And who, till he weighed it, could ever surmise That her heart was a cinder instead of a coal? -- John Boyle O'Reilly (1844-1890) was born in Drogheda (Louth) Ireland. After apprenticing at various newspapers, he became a member of the Fenian Society, a group dedicated to Irish nationalism. Soon after joining, O'Reilly was arrested and banished to a penal colony in Australia. In 1869 he escaped to America and joined the staff of the "Boston Pilot," the diocesan paper. He soon became editor and went on to publish many volumes of poetry, ranging from patriotic odes to lyrical ballads. In testament to the wide acclaim he enjoyed for his poetry, O'Reilly was picked to deliver a commemorative poem at the dedication of Plymouth Rock in 1889 - a major honor for any writer at the time, especially for an Irishman. He died only a year later at age 46 from an overdose of sleeping pills, though it is not known whether it was a suicide or an accident.

*Sunday Telegraph Article : Salute to a brave and modest nation - Kevin Myers, The Sunday Telegraph LONDON - * *Kevin Myers is Irish , lives in Kildare .* * **Until the deaths of Canadian soldiers killed in Afghanistan , probably almost no one outside their home country had been aware that Canadian troops are deployed in the region. And as always, Canada will bury its dead, just as the rest of the world, as always will forget its sacrifice, just as it always forgets nearly everything Canada ever does. ** **It seems that Canada 's historic mission is to come to the selfless aid both of its friends and of complete strangers, and then, once the crisis is over, to be well and truly ignored. ** **Canada is the perpetual wallflower that stands on the edge of the hall, waiting for someone to come and ask her for a dance. A fire breaks out, s he risks life and limb to rescue her fellow dance-goers, and suffers serious injuries. But when the hall is repaired and the dancing resumes, there is Canada, the wallflower still, while those she once helped ** **Glamorously cavort across the floor, blithely neglecting her yet again. ** **That is t he price Canada pays for sharing the North American continent with the United States , and for being a selfless friend of Britain in two global conflicts. For much of the 20th century, Canada was torn in two different directions: It seemed to be a part of the old world, yet had an address in the new one, and that divided identity ensured that it never fully got the gratitude it deserved. Yet its purely voluntary contribution to the cause of freedom in two world wars was perhaps the greatest of any democracy. ** **Almost 10% of Canada 's entire population of seven million people served in the armed forces during the First World War, and nearly 60,000 died. The great Allied victories of 1918 were spearheaded by Canadian troops, perhaps the most capable soldiers in the entire British order of battle. ** **Canada was repaid for its enormous sacrifice by downright neglect, it's unique contribution to victory being absorbed into the popular Memory as somehow or other the work of the "British." ** **The Second World War provided a re-run. The Canadian navy began the war with a half dozen vessels, and ended up policing nearly half of the Atlantic against U-boat attack. More than 120 Canadian warships participated in the Normandy landings, during which 15,000 Canadian soldiers went ashore on D-Day alone. Canada finished the war with the third-largest navy and the fourth-largest air force in the world. ** **The world thanked Canada with the same sublime indifference a s it had the previous time. Canadian participation in the war was acknowledged in film only if it was necessary to give an American actor a part in a campaign in which the United States had clearly not participated - a touching scrupulousness which, of course, Hollywood has since abandoned, as it has any notion of a separate Canadian identity. ** **So it is a general rule that actors and filmmakers arriving in Hollywood keep their nationality - unless, that is, they are Canadian. Thus Mary Pickford, Walter Huston, Donald Sutherland, Michael J. Fox, William Shatner, Norman Jewison, David Cronenberg, Alex Trebek, Art Linkletter and Dan Aykroyd have in the popular perception become American, and Christopher Plummer, British. ** **It is as if, in the very act of becoming famous, a Canadian ceases to be Canadian, unless she is Margaret Atwood, who is as unshakably Canadian as a moose, or Celine Dion, for whom Canada has proved quite unable to find any takers. ** **Moreover, Canada is every bit as querulously alert to the achievements of it's sons and daughters as the rest of the world is completely unaware of them. The Canadians proudly say of themselves - and are unheard by anyone else - that 1% of the world's population has provided 10% of the world's peacekeeping forces. Canadian soldiers in the past half century have been the greatest peacekeepers on Earth - in 39 missions on UN mandates, and six on non-UN peacekeeping duties, from Vietnam to East Timor, from Sinai to Bosnia. ** **Yet the only foreign engagement that has entered the popular on-Canadian imagination was the sorry affair in Somalia , in which out-of-control paratroopers murdered two Somali infiltrators. Their regiment was then disbanded in disgrace - a uniquely Canadian act of self-abasement for which, naturally, the Canadians received no international credit. ** **So who today in the United States knows about the stoic and selfless friendship its northern neighbour has given it in** **Afghanistan? Rather like Cyrano de Bergerac , Canada repeatedly does honourable things for honourable motives, but instead of being thanked for it, it remains something of a figure of fun.** **It is the Canadian way, for which Canadians should be proud, yet such honour comes at a high cost. This past year more grieving Canadian families knew that cost all too tragically well. ** *

All births and marriages for the name Hawthorne/Hawthorn from the Banbridge District have been put on my website, these can be accessed now by going to the banbridge index page of the website, and the best of luck in your research. Raymond http://www.raymondscountydownwebsite.com

SNIPPET: Peter FINN of "The Philadelphia Inquirer" described McCOURT's autobiographical book, "Angela's Ashes" (1996) as "a spellbinding memoir of childhood that swerves flawlessly between aching sadness and desperate humor - A work of lasting beauty." McCourt was born in NY but raised in Ireand and attended Leamy's school in Limerick circa 1938. Frank returned back to the States at age 19. For many years he was an English teacher at Stuyvesant High School in New York City, later to write and live in CT. Here is a small excerpt: "On a Saturday morning Mam finishes her tea and says, You're going to dance. Dance? Why? You're seven years old, you made your First Communion, and now 'tis time for the dancing. I'm taking you down to Catherine Street to Mrs. O'Connor's Irish dancing classes. You'll go there every Saturday morning and that'll keep you off the streets. That'll keep you from wandering around Limerick with hooligans. She tells me to wash my face not forgetting ears and neck, comb my hair, blow my nose, take the look off my face, what look? never mind, just take it off, put on my stockings and my First Communion shoes which, she says, are destroyed because I can't pass a canister or a rock without kicking it. She's worn out standing in the queue at the St. Vincent de Paul Society begging for boots for me and Malachy so that we can wear out the toes with the kicking. Your father says it's never too early to learn the songs and dances of your ancestors. What's ancestors? Never mind, she says, you're going to dance. I wonder how I can die for Ireland if I have to sing and dance for Ireland, too. I wonder why they never say, You can eat sweets and stay home from school and go swimming for Ireland. Mam says, Don't get smart or I'll warm your ear. Cyril Benson dances. He has medals hanging from his shoulders to his kneecaps. He wins contests all over Ireland and he looks lovely in his saffron kilt. He's a credit to his mother and he gets his name in the paper all the time and you can be sure he brings home the odd few pounds. You don't see him roaming the streets kicking everything in sight till the toes hang out of his boots, oh, no , he's a good boy, dancing for his poor mother. Mam wets an old towel and scrubs my face till it stings, she wraps the towel around her finger and sticks it in my ears and claims there's enough wax there to grow potatoes, she wets my hair to make it lie down, she tells me shut up and stop the whinging, that these dancing lessons will cost her sixpence every Saturday ... and God knows she can barely afford it. I try to tell her, Ah, Mam, sure you don't have to send me to dancing school when you could be smoking a nice Woodbine and having a cup of tea, but she says, Oh aren't you clever. You're going to dance if I have to give up my fags forever. If my pals see my mother dragging me through the streets to an Irish dancing class I'll be disgraced entirely. They think it's all right to dance and pretend you're Fred Astaire because you can jump all over the screen with Ginger Rogers. There is no Ginger Rogers in Irish dancing and you can't jump all over. You stand up straight and keep your arms against yourself and kick your legs up and around and never smile. My uncle Pa Keating said Irish dancers look like they have steel rods up their arses, but I can't say that to Mam, she'd kill me.... There's a gramophone in Mrs. O'Connor's playing an Irish jig or a reel and boys and girls are dancing around kicking their legs out and keeping their hands to their sides. Mrs. O'Connor is a great fat woman and when she stops the record to show the steps all the fat from her chin to her ankles jiggles and I wonder how she can teach the dancing. She comes over to my mother and says, So this is little Frankie? I think we have the makings of a dancer here. Boys and girls, do we have the makings of a dancer here? We do, Mrs. O'Connor.... The fourth Saturday morning Billy Campbell knocks at our door. Mrs. McCourt, can Frankie come out and play? Mam tells him, No, Billy. Frankie is going to his dancing lesson. He waits for me at the bottom of Barrack Hill. He wants to know why I'm dancing, that everyone knows dancing is a sissy thing and I'll wind up like Cyril Benson wearing a kilt and medals and dancing all over with girls. He says next thing I'll be sitting in the kitchen knitting socks. He says dancing will destroy me and I won't be fit to play any kind of football, soccer, rugby or Gaelic football itself because the dancing teaches you to run like a sissy and everyone will laugh. I tell him I'm finished with the dancing, that I have sixpence in my pocket for Mrs. O'Connor ... and that I'm going to the Lyric Cinema instead. Sixpence will get the two of us in with tuppence left over for two squares of Cleeves' toffee, and we have a great time looking at 'Riders of the Purple Sage.' .... Dad is sitting by the fire with Mam and they want to know what steps I learned today and what they're called. I already did 'The Siege of Ennis' and 'The Walls of Limerick,' which are real dances. Now I have to make up names and dances. Mam says she never heard of a dance called 'The Siege of Dingle' but if that's what I learned go ahead, dance it, and I dance around the kitchen with my hands down by my sides making my own music ... Dad and Mam clapping in time with my feet. Dad says, Och, that's a fine dance and you'll be a powerful Irish dancer and a credit to them who died for their country. Mam says, That wasn't much for a sixpence."

GERANIUM LOVER You luxuriate in their musky scent, Rubbing thumb and first two fingers across a leaf you offer me your perfumed hand. The scarlet ones are best top-heavy with blowsy blooms. I grow other variations, delicate pink, shell-like peach, ivy-leaved and lemon-scented, but they're far too dainty genteel as Dresden ladies not like the harlots in my window, flouncy skirts seducing you their robust colour a buxom miracle of each year's cuttings shoved casually into an earthen pot. I stroke the silky petals and you kiss my proffered fingers burning scarlet, dangerous and ardent. -- Eithne CAVANAGH "Extended Wings 4, An Anthology of Poetry and Prose," Rathmines Writers, Swan Press/Dublin (1998).

Has anyone been successful in obtaining early (circa 1800) records from St. Ita's R.C. church in Kilmeedy/Feenagh parish? Still seeking info on the Guiry/Vaughan families. I know they were farming, 1827 & left for America 1848, BUT only 2 came. Thank you, Joe Geary _________________________________________________________________ Mortgage refinance is hot 1) Rates near 30-yr lows 2) Good credit get intro-rate 4.625%* https://www2.nextag.com/goto.jsp?product=100000035&url=%2fst.jsp&tm=y&search=mortgage_text_links_88_h2a5f&s=4056&p=5117&disc=y&vers=743

In a message dated 3/25/2007 7:21:08 AM Eastern Standard Time, [email protected] writes: > R.C. church in Kilmeedy/Feenagh parish? Still seeking info on the >Guiry/Vaughan families. < Joe, Try _www.google.com_ (http://www.google.com) I asked where the parish was located. Maybe you know it is in Limerick? They give 4 sites in all, here are two. _http://www.limerickdioceseheritage.org/Dromcollogher/textDromcollogher.htm_ (http://www.limerickdioceseheritage.org/Dromcollogher/textDromcollogher.htm) one of the Sites given. _http://www.limerickdioceseheritage.org/search.htm_ (http://www.limerickdioceseheritage.org/search.htm) Joan ************************************** AOL now offers free email to everyone. Find out more about what's free from AOL at http://www.aol.com.

Don't miss visiting the Irish Rover in Sarasota. Paul Duffy and Bob Vesey have a wonderful thing going. In GulfGate area, Gateway Drive. Worth the time! Barbara ************************************** AOL now offers free email to everyone. Find out more about what's free from AOL at http://www.aol.com.

GREAT UNCLE EDGAR AT GRANDMOTHER'S FUNERAL They were twins, born at the end of the last century Of rugged stock in the hardscrabble farm country Of central Maine. She raised six children and wrote poetry, Surviving two husbands, while he was a dairy farmer, Spare of words, who married late and lost his wife. Because the pull of blood is strong, they found each other Again, taking up old age together, uneasily, After lives apart. He accused her of having gentleman callers, And she fussed at his quirks, like picking up pennies, But he always told her, with bred-in-the-bone frugality, That two cents was a down payment on a postage stamp. They kept each other warm with cats in winter and put out a garden Every spring until their ninetieth year. And when They moved into the rest home, they traded hands of rummy Until she dozed or he lost track, since he heard less and less And wandered more and more around the grounds, looking For his cows. The day Grandmother died, the nurses said He didn't know the difference, but his niece took him To the funeral parlor, where he sat beside the open casket For the longest time without a word. Then, looking at her, He said, with slight annoyance, "Well, Eva, play your card!" She already had. Her hand was blessed by the King of Hearts, And a better game was just beginning. Maybe Edgar really Understood and was hurling all his wit, with brave recall, Against the loss, for afterward he sometimes crept Into her room, where he sat in the creaky old rocker, And the silence ached with that lonesome scrannel sound. -- Tom Orr, from "Hammers in the Fog," (1995/Restoration Press, Indianapolis, IN), copyrighted material posted with permission. This tender tribute to sibling love was composed by Thomas Alan Orr, born in Bangor, ME, who grew up in the hill country of western MA. He graduated from Gordon College and moved to Indianapolis in 1972, has worked in human services and work force development. He has Scots-Irish roots. Tom is a member of the Writers' Center of Indianapolis, and since 1986 has lived on a small farm in Shelby Co, where he raises rabbits and poultry.

Many thanks, Pat. The complete Irish name of this dish is Císte Muiceola with the c in Irish always pronounced like a K. Le gach dea-ghuí / Best, - Jerry -----Original Message----- From: [email protected] [mailto:[email protected]] On Behalf Of Pat Connors Sent: Saturday, March 24, 2007 9:07 AM To: ny irish; [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected] Subject: [IRISH-AMER] PORK CISTE (pork & apple casserole pie), recipe Thanks to the Irish Heritage Newsletter...sounds interesting. PORK CISTE (pork & apple casserole pie) A pie casserole made with pork and apple filling topped with crust. PASTRY CRUST: 1 cup flour 1/2 teaspoon salt 3 Tablespoons lard 2 to 3 Tablespoons cold water PORK AND APPLE FILLING: 1 1/2 pounds lean pork, cut into 1-inch cubes 1 cup water 1/2 cup chopped onion 1 teaspoon crumbled dried sage leaves 3/4 teaspoon salt 1/2 cup milk 1/4 cup all purpose flour 2 large tart apples, peeled, cored, sliced 1 Tablespoon sugar FOR GLAZE: 1 egg yolk 1 Tablespoon milk FOR THE PASTRY CRUST: Combine flour and salt, mixing well. Cut in lard until mixture resembles coarse meal. Add water a Tablespoon at a time, while stirring with a fork, just until mixture holds together. Form into ball. Cover with plastic wrap; refrigerate. FOR THE FILLING: Brown pork in large saucepan over moderate heat, stirring frequently. Add water, onion, sage, and salt; mix well. Cover; simmer over low heat 30 minutes or until meat is tender. Combine milk and flour; stir to form smooth mixture. Add to pork mixture in saucepan, stirring constantly to prevent lumps from forming. Cook over low heat until thickened and bubbly. Pour 1/2 of pork mixture into 1 1/2 quart lightly greased casserole. Top with apples; sprinkle with sugar. Add remaining pork mixture. Roll pastry crust. Turn out dough onto lightly floured board; roll to fit casserole dish. Place over meat mixture. Turn under small margin of pastry around edge of casserole; crimp edge. Cut several steam vents in pastry. Beat egg yolk and milk together; brush crust well with egg wash. Bake at 450 F. for 10 minutes. Reduce heat to 350 F. and bake 25 minutes more. Serve hot. Makes 4 to 5 servings. International Creative Cookbooks Irish Cooking -- Pat Connors, visiting Port Charlotte FL http://www.connorsgenealogy.com ====Irish American Mailing List===== Add/check your surname to the Irish-American mailing list Surname Registry at: http://www.connorsgenealogy.com/IrishAmerican/ ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message

Thanks to the Irish Heritage Newsletter...sounds interesting. PORK CISTE (pork & apple casserole pie) A pie casserole made with pork and apple filling topped with crust. PASTRY CRUST: 1 cup flour 1/2 teaspoon salt 3 Tablespoons lard 2 to 3 Tablespoons cold water PORK AND APPLE FILLING: 1 1/2 pounds lean pork, cut into 1-inch cubes 1 cup water 1/2 cup chopped onion 1 teaspoon crumbled dried sage leaves 3/4 teaspoon salt 1/2 cup milk 1/4 cup all purpose flour 2 large tart apples, peeled, cored, sliced 1 Tablespoon sugar FOR GLAZE: 1 egg yolk 1 Tablespoon milk FOR THE PASTRY CRUST: Combine flour and salt, mixing well. Cut in lard until mixture resembles coarse meal. Add water a Tablespoon at a time, while stirring with a fork, just until mixture holds together. Form into ball. Cover with plastic wrap; refrigerate. FOR THE FILLING: Brown pork in large saucepan over moderate heat, stirring frequently. Add water, onion, sage, and salt; mix well. Cover; simmer over low heat 30 minutes or until meat is tender. Combine milk and flour; stir to form smooth mixture. Add to pork mixture in saucepan, stirring constantly to prevent lumps from forming. Cook over low heat until thickened and bubbly. Pour 1/2 of pork mixture into 1 1/2 quart lightly greased casserole. Top with apples; sprinkle with sugar. Add remaining pork mixture. Roll pastry crust. Turn out dough onto lightly floured board; roll to fit casserole dish. Place over meat mixture. Turn under small margin of pastry around edge of casserole; crimp edge. Cut several steam vents in pastry. Beat egg yolk and milk together; brush crust well with egg wash. Bake at 450 F. for 10 minutes. Reduce heat to 350 F. and bake 25 minutes more. Serve hot. Makes 4 to 5 servings. International Creative Cookbooks Irish Cooking -- Pat Connors, visiting Port Charlotte FL http://www.connorsgenealogy.com

This is very good, Jean. Thank you. I've just added the accent marks where needed. Le gach dea-ghuí / Best, - Jerry -----Original Message----- From: [email protected] [mailto:[email protected]] On Behalf Of Jean R. Sent: Tuesday, March 20, 2007 11:49 AM To: [email protected] Subject: [IRISH-AMER] Some Irish Pleasantries, Pub, Music, Political Words Taoiseach (TEE-shock) -- Prime Minister of Irish Republic Seanad (SHAN-ud) -- Irish Senate Dáil (DOY-ill) -- Irish House of Representatives TD, Teachta Dála (TALK-ta DOLL-a) -- Member of Irish Parliament Dia dhuit (JEE-a dich) -- Good day, hello Dia's Muire dhuit (JEE-as MWUR-a dich) -- response to dia dhuit Fáilte (FAHLT-shuh) -- Welcome Conas tá tú? (CUNN-us thaw too) -- How are you? Go raibh maith agat (guh roh moh UG-ut) -- Thank you Slán agat (slawn UG-ut) -- Good-bye Sláinte (SLAWN-chuh) -- To your health, cheers Táim súgach! -- (thaw im SOO-gakh) -- I'm tipsy! Poitín (po-CHEEN) -- moonshine, homemade liquor Craic (crack) -- good conversation, fun atmosphere Bodhrán (BOUR-ohn) -- traditional drum Uilleann (ILL-in) -- elbow; píopaí uillinn = elbow bagpipes Trad (trahd) -- traditional Irish music Céilí (KAY-lee) -- Irish dance gathering. also traditional-style party in the home Fleadh (flah) -- music festival Mná (min-AW) -- women's room Fir (fear) -- men's room Leithras (LEH hrass) -- toilets

Taoiseach (TEE-shock) -- Prime Minister of Irish Republic Seanad (SHAN-ud) -- Irish Senate Dail (DOY-ill) -- Irish House of Representatives TD, Teachta Dala (TALK-ta DOLL-a) -- Member of Irish Parliament Dia dhuit (JEE-a dich) -- Good day, hello Dia's muire dhuit (JEE-as MWUR-a dich) -- response to dia dhuit Failte (FAHLT-shuh) -- Welcome Conas ta tu? (CUNN-us thaw too) -- How are you? Go raibh maith agat (guh roh moh UG-ut) -- Thank you Slan agat (slawn UG-ut) -- Good-bye Slainte (SLAWN-chuh) -- To your health, cheers Taim sugach! -- (thaw im SOO-gakh) -- I'm tipsy! Poitin (po-CHEEN) -- moonshine, homemade liquor Craic (crack) -- good conversation, fun atmosphere Bodhran (BOUR-ohn) -- traditional drum Uilleann (ILL-in) -- elbow; uilleann pipes are elbow bagpipes Trad (trahd) -- traditional Irish music Ceili (KAY-lee) -- Irish dance gathering Fleadh (flah) -- music festival Mna (min-AW) -- women's room Fir (fear) -- men's room Lei thras (LEH hrass) -- toilets