There was an old man named Michael Finnegan, He grew whiskers on his chinnigin, The wind came around and blew them in again, Poor old Michael Finnegan, begin again.
May the grass grow at your door and the fox build his nest on your hearthstone. May the light fade from your eyes, so you never see what you love. May your own blood rise against you, and the sweetest drink you...
Spells and incantations British
Thirst is the end of drinking and sorrow is the end of drunkenness.
Proverbs and old sayings Irish about drunkenness, drinking, end, sadness