kogun

The French drink wine, the English tea.
The Yankee drinks his hot black coffee.
The child drinks milk nine times a day.
The Scotsman sips his whiskey toddy.
You can keep you wine and keep your tea!
My curse on him that brings me coffee!
I'll drink porter, if I may.
It makes me feel content and happy.
Porter quaffed down with a laugh.
The gentry have their aching livers.
Water is all right in tea,
For fish, and things that swim in rivers.
The poor man and the beggar, too,
The poet in the corner thinking.
If they'd money enough to spend,
It's pints of porter they'd be drinking.
Porter quaffed down with a laugh.
The gentry have their aching livers.
Water is all right in tea,
For fish, and things that swim in rivers.
The miser hoards and stores his gold.
The bee collects the summer honey.
When that miser's dead and cold,
Someone else will kiss his money!
Porter quaffed down with a laugh.
The gentry have their aching livers.
Water is all right in tea,
For fish, and things that swim in rivers.
Some go in for counting beads.
More go in for chasing women.
The scholar stays at home and reads.
Give me the glass with porter in it.
Porter quaffed down with a laugh.
The gentry have their aching livers.
Water is all right in tea,
For fish, and things that swim in rivers.

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Well, it's ST. Patty's Day and that means I'm going to be shitty drunk all day.

God I LOVE THIS DAY!!!!!!

Anyway all be safe and as responsable as possible on this fine day.

I'll see you all again when I'm some what sober I leave you with some traditional Irish drinking songs.

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Whiskey, You're the Divil

Whiskey you're the divil, you're leading me astray
Over hills and mountains and to Amerikay
You're sweeter, stronger, dacenter
You're spunkier nor tay
Oh whiskey you're me darlin' drunk or sober.

Oh, now brave boys are off for marching off to Portugal and Spain
Drums are beating, banners flying
The divil a home we'll come tonight
Oh, love fare thee well
With me tiddery idle loodle lum a da
Me tiddery idle loodle lum a da
Me right fol torral addee o
There's whiskey in the jar.

Said the mother do not wrong me
Don't take me daughter from me
For if you do I will torment you
And after death me ghost will haunt you
Love fare thee well
With me tiddery idle loodle lum a da
Me tiddery idle loodle lum a da
Me right fol torral addee o
There's whiskey in the jar.

Now the French are fightin' bouldly
Men are dying hot and couldly
Give every man his flask of powder
His firelock on his shoulder,
Love fare thee well
With me tiddelly idle loodle lum a da
Me tiddery idle loodle lum a da
Me right fol torral addee o
There's whiskey in the jar.