Irish
He Is
A
strange blend of shyness, pride and conceit,
And
stubborn refusal to bow in defeat
Hešs
spoiling and ready to argue and fight,
Yet
the smile of a child fills his soul with delight.
His
eyes are the quickest to well up in tears,
Yet
his strength is the strongest to banish your
fears.
His
hate is as fierce as his devotion is grand,
And
there is no middle
ground
on which he will
stand.
Hešs
wild and hešs gentle, hešs good and hešs bad.
Hešs
proud and hešs humble, hešs happy and sad.
Hešs
in love with the ocean, the earth and the
skies,
Hešs
enamoured with beauty wherever it lies.
Hešs
victor and victim, a star and a clod,
But
mostly hešs Irish... in love with his
God.
Home | History
| General Info | Our
Rooms | Reservations | Woodstock
| Quotes