Happy St.Patrick's Day!

Members of the Celtic Learning Project get ready to step off in the New Haven St.Patrick's Day Parade (2006). Along the parade route, the members invite willing participants to join them in the 13th Century Celtic battle cry of "Abu." The Celtic Learning Project does some great (and fun) stuff. Check them out at celticlearn.org.

Happy St. Patrick's Day! (I wish everyday could be St. Patrick's Day)

St. Patrick’s Day Everyday (1995)
A song by Irish Jones

Chorus:
Let’s all raise our glasses and thank the lord
For she granted us one grand wish
One time each year, for just one day
We can set all our troubles aside
And be Irish!

Verses:
Well I’ve never been to Cork
Never set foot on Kilkenny
But I know what a paradise Ireland can be
I’ve read all the histories
And heard my Grandma’s stories
Of the people and culture of lovely Ireland

I often dream of leaving here
And flying to mother Ireland
The place of my ancestors’ birth
I’ll open a little tavern
Or work on a fishing boat
And leave all my troubles behind

With the rolling green countryside
And the quaint little villages
All is not paradise in lovely Ireland
Brother fights his brother
Widows weep for the senseless loss
Praying Ireland will soon be whole again

I wish everyday could be that holiday
Where people could smile and wear the green
And sing along to songs about Ireland
Every voice in harmony
Brothers and sisters sing as one
I Wish everyday could be St.Patrick’s day

Celtic Learning Project - New Haven Parade

Members of the Celtic Learning Project, who try to keep Irish history alive year round, marching as 13th Century Celtic Warriors. (photo thanks to Ed C.)

Irish Dancers on Parade

Preparing to March - New Haven, CT, St.Patrick's Day Parade - 2006

'Til We Meet Again - A song by the Irish band Irish Jones

Til We Meet Again (1997)

Goodbye stress and deadlines
Goodbye mortgage and car
The next time that you see me
I’ll be in Ireland
Fishing off the coast by day
Belly to the bar at night
Writing poems and drinking stout
Let’s toast till we meet again

Sure I’ll miss my friends and family
I hope yo’ll all come to see me
We’ll hang out with the college crowd
Down on Grafton Street
Or we’ll hang out in my fishing village
And play some road bowling
We’ll reminisce about the good times
Let’s toast till we meet again

I’ll be watching soccer and hurling
When next you lay your eyes on me
Maybe I’ll move to Tory Island
Far from the news of the world
And if beauty is truth and truth is beauty
Just like John Keats said
I’ll find both in Ireland
Let’s toast till we meet again

We’ll always toast till we meet again

Dog is my Co-Pilot

Dudes at Doody's

Travelin Matt, Southside Ed and Kane - the badass bass man

The Bass Man (August 2001)

The Bass Man August 2001

I am the bass man
I play the bass
I don't get watched much when I play bass
I like that
Most people watch the singer or guitarist
so I get to watch the people

the drummer pouts
the drummer desperately wants to be watched
not me
I am the bass man
I play the bass

I spotted you sitting on a stool against a brick
pillar in the bar
your black shirt made you blend
into the dim lit room
your contagious smile broke through the crowd
it tugged on my shirt
you didn't see me

no one sees me
I like that

I caught a glimpse of you often
as you laughed with your friends
or when you sipped your beer
or just sat there and looked inviting

I wanted to walk over and give you a slow
soft
lengthy kiss
you would be surprised
I would say that I couldn't resist
I would say that I would like to explain
but couldn¹t explain
I'd have to run
After all
I'm actually playing the bass
I am the bass man
I play the bass

women don't hit on the bass player
they usually hit on the singer or guitarist
and if they talk to anyone else but them
the drummer rushes over

Once, though, a woman said she loved the way the bass
lines melodically weaved
through the songs we were playing
this woman understands the bass, I thought
“I bet your fingers could do wonders to a girls body,”
she said
placing her hand on my chest to keep her balance as
she leaned over and
spoke to me while her breath, equal parts Sam Adams,
Marlboros and
spearmint
gum, brushed the side of my face
I was hard at that point

But I couldn't fuk her
(I wanted to)
I don't think my wife,
who was home with our four kids,
would understand
I introduced her to the drummer
I went back to playing the bass
after all,
I am the bass man
I play the bass

After the last song of the night
we pack up the equipment
we lug it back to our basement rehearsal space
so our work is not done for a few hours
although the singer never moves much equipment

some people come over
and tell us we sounded great
I still see you at the bar
white pants and black shirt and a killer smile that
breaks through the
smoke
and stale stink
Some people want us to sign CDs
that's cool

you stop by as you head to the door
you smile and say, “You guys sounded great.”
I want to say something clever enough to make you lose
that guy you¹re
with
“Thanks,” said the drummer walking over
“I'm glad you liked it,” he adds as she walks out

“Someone should chain you to the drum set,” I tell the
drummer.
“Right, like she was talking to you,” he said.
“Bass players,” he adds. “You always think the women
are looking at
you.”

drummers are idiots
I'm not
I'm the bass man
I play the bass

Faces - Mother & Daughter

Face - on left - and her daughter are two more of my favorite people in the world!

Walking - September 2006

Walking (September 2006)

I am walking
lost
wandering
Through a place
where ancient
Amerikans -
Native Americans -
probably lived with god
and respecyed the land
and prayed for peace
But the land has shrunk
overrun by the cars and people
you can now hear in the distance
from the new wilderness of strip malls and
overgrown houses
which have staked claim to the land
like evil warriors
and have driven god herself out
The cars and people
haunt the open land
that once stretched freely for miles
They suffocate the spirit
Too close and bullying
For anyone to make a meaningful connection
with nature
evermore
The small track of land
now a token speck of open space
surrounded by a suffering civilization
hell bent on
self-destruction
(and they don’t even know it!)

Check Out Mackdude.blogspot.com

Southside Ed (left) is usually the coolest cat in the room.
Mack published "Mack's House - A Place Where a Dude Can Speak His Mind!" at mackdude.blogspot.com.

The Bike (February 2007)

The Bike – February 2007

The bike
- with a motor –
is the only way to travel
The Power
The Glory
The Wind
slapping my face
The Connection
with my surroundings
I’m somehow
more in tune
with the streets
with the people
with the road.
I’m also more in tune
with the assholes
who seem determined
to bump me
to cut me off
to win the battle
for a driving lane
and kill me
in the process.
Pity
the poor car
a dome over the driver
A shield
from the environment
and god’s beauty
They envy me
until it rains
and even then
it feels good
(like sex – even when it’s not great
it’s perfect…
for a guy anyway…)
But on the bike
the color of nature
is more vibrant
the air surrounding me
more invigorating
and the road
more commanding
I am king
on the bike
I feel like I am
on a throne
A big, fat
Harley throne
Located far above the kingdom
But still in sight
of my admiring followers
with biker chicks
as my obedient angels
But when I park
Or ride past a mirrored window
I realize I am on a scooter
A Honda 50
that actually rocks!
and gets me better gas mileage
than any of you fukers
Hey,
It’s still freedom
I rule!