St. Patrick’s Day I…

St. Patrick's Day

I should have been born Celtic, dammit. I should have been born Celtic because I have more Celtic music than any of the Celts I know. I should be Celtic because I know that Celt is pronounced with a hard 'C', and I even know how to pronounce Ceildih (kay-lee), and what it means. I should be Celtic because I've been to the Ceilidh House pub in Edinburgh, and gotten toasted night after night on hard cider with the fiddlers, teaching them songs of America and hearing them play songs I mostly already knew. I should be Celtic because I've climbed King Arthur's Seat, and stood at the top in the fierce wind, and seen the city and the Firth of Forth at my feet, and fought back tears (so that the tourists wouldn't see). I should be a Celt because I can tell you what a pooka is, and why children should beware it. I can tell you what not to do if you meet the Queen of Elfland at a crossroads, and how to save yourself if you're a fiddler taken underhill. I can tell you how True Thomas gained the gift of true speech, and why that was a curse to him all his long and blessed days. And I should be a Celt because they appreciate bards over there, and writers get to earn their income tax-free, and that's because the Celts are a sensible people who know what's important, even if they do occasionally forget it when they've had a wee bit too much of the creature. And I'd sing all bloody night if it would help, and dance jigs until the sun rose in the sky, and it would do me nae good a'tall, fer I'm not a Celt, and I ain't likely to be one in the bonnie morning.

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