Imieniny - Name Day

Happy St Patrick’s Day.

It’s my ‘Name Day’ today and I am returning to London and going for a few drinks with friends before flying off to the United States for my younger brother’s wedding.  Considering that Guinness is quite often sold at reduced prices on this particular day and it’s my favourite drink (well, stout is, anyway) I can’t help seeing the helping hand of the holy one in all this. Whichever Holy One it is, thank you kindly. It is much appreciated.

So this blog will be taking a holiday until the 28th of March. As the Dean of the notoriously rigourous University of Pozdrowienia z Ursynowa I will be studying the difference in the three cultures I'll be in over the next few days and reporting back in a master seminar my findings. The seminar may indeed be delivered in my head, in the shower, but the consequences will surely be felt around the world and for years to come. 

However in the meantime in lieu of wit and inspiration but in the spirit of regurgitation which will undoubtedly be present in cities around the world tonight, I present to you a little folk song I wrote last year. The lyrics are not copyrighted but only I know the melody. It’s a fast paced song about love, drink and friends, as all the best songs are.

Enjoy, and if you are celebrating my name day then I raise my imaginary glass to you, sir.

Trouble’s Brewin’

At six o clock of an evening

My mrs says to me

Won’t you go to the pub please paddy

For you driving me crazy

Says I to her, "young lady,

Your command I am bound to please."

So I'll walk up to the pub right now

But i'll come home on my knees.

 

[chorus]

For it’s beer that I am drinking

But it’s stout that I adore.

So raise your glass

And stamp your feet

On the spit and sawdust floor

 

So I am crawling back from the pub

To see the mrs and get my tea

When who should I meet

But Stuart Collins a dear old friend

And this is what he says to me:

"Won’t ye come for the cure please paddy

For I’m sure my mouth’s all dry."

And who am I to deny a friend?

Sure I couldn’t and that’s no lie.

 

For it’s songs that we’re now singing

But it’s the stout that we adore

So take your chance

And join for a turn

On the spit and sawdust floor.

 

Well it’s 12 o’clock of the evening

Sure the Mrs will be mad at me

When I come home smelling of porter

And tellin her that I cannot see.

So I may as well stay for quick one

Be hung for a sheep, as well as a lamb

For as we all do now

That’s nothing as bad

[pause]

As a woman who’s mad at a man!

 

For it’s trouble I’m now in

But sure it’s stout that I adore

So who’s for a pint,

Sure it’s my round right?

On the spit and sawdust floor.