May the luck of the Irish possess you.
May the devil fly off with your worries.
May God bless you forever and ever.
Ireland, sir, for good or evil,
No other place under Heaven.
And no man can touch its sod
Or breathe its air without becoming
Better or worse.
There are only two kinds of people in the world, The Irish
And those who wish they were.
You're not as young as you used to be.
You're not as old as you?re going to be.
So watch it!
Do not resent growing old.
Many are denied the privilege.
Nothing is as easy as it looks.
Everything takes longer than you expect.
And if anything can go wrong,
It will at the worst possible moment.
Here's to you and yours
And to mine and ours.
And if mine and ours
Ever come across to you and yours,
I hope you and yours will do
As much for mine and ours
As mine and ours have done
For you and yours!
May the most you wish for
Be the least you get.
May the luck of the Irish
Lead to happiest heights
And the highway you travel
Be lined with green lights.
Grant me a sense of humor, Lord,
The saving grace to see a joke,
To win some happiness from life,
And pass it on to other folk.
Ireland, it's the one place on earth
That heaven has kissed
With melody, mirth,
And meadow and mist.
May your troubles be less
And your blessings be more.
And nothing but happiness
Come through your door.
May your thoughts be as glad as the shamrocks.
May your heart be as light as a song.
May each day bring you bright happy hours,
That stay with you all year long.
For each petal on the shamrock
This brings a wish your way
Good health, good luck, and happiness
For today and every day.
May your heart be warm and happy
With the lilt of Irish laughter
Every day in every way
And forever and ever after.
Now sweetly lies old Ireland
Emerald green beyond the foam,
Awakening sweet memories,
Calling the heart back home.
May the blessings of light be upon you,
Light without and light within.
And in all your comings and goings,
May you ever have a kindly greeting
From them you meet along the road.
May brooks and trees and singing hills
Join in the chorus, too.
And every gentle wind that blows
Send happiness to you.
Wherever you go and whatever you do,
May the luck of the Irish be there with you.
May you be poor in misfortune,
Rich in blessings,
Slow to make enemies,
And quick to make friends.
But rich or poor, quick or slow,
May you know nothing but happiness
From this day forward.
May the face of every good news
And the back of every bad news
Be toward us.
Like the goodness of the five loaves and two fishes,
Which God divided among the five thousand men,
May the blessing of the King who so divided
Be upon our share of this common meal.
May you have food and raiment,
A soft pillow for your head,
May you be forty years in heaven
Before the devil knows you're dead.
The health of all Ireland
and of County Mayo,
And when that much is dead,
may we still be on the go.
From the County of Meath,
the health of the hag.
Not of her but her drink
is the reason we brag.
Your health one and all,
from one wall to the other,
And you outside there
speak up, brother!
May the strength of three be in your journey.
May peace and plenty be the first
To lift the latch on your door,
And happiness be guided to your home
By the candle of Christmas.
May your right hand always
Be stretched out in friendship
And never in want.
May there be a fox on your fishing hook
And a hare on your bait
And may you kill no fish
Until St. Brigid's Day.
May you live all the days of your life.
- Jonathan Swift
May the grass grow long on the road to hell for want of use.
May there be a generation of children
On the children of your children.
May you have warm words on a cold evening,
A full moon on a dark night,
And the road downhill all the way to your door.
Here's that we may always have
A clean shirt
A clean conscience
And a punt in our pocket.