A little warming Irish schmaltz on yet another chilly March day…be ye warmed and filled…and know that if one is Irish, the world will always break one’s heart.
‘O Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling…from glen to glen and down the mountain side…the summer’s gone and all the roses falling…it’s you, it’s you, must go and I must bide. But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow…or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow…it’s I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow…O Danny boy, o Danny boy, I love you so’…and so it goes, and so it goes…
690 Saint Paul 