Top o' the mornin' to you...

The Shamrock

There's a dear little plant
that grows in our isle
'Twas Saint Patrick himself
sure that set it.

And the sun on his labor
with pleasure did smile
And a tear from his eyes
oft-times wet it.

It grows through the bog,
through the brake,
through the mireland
And they call it the dear
little Shamrock of Ireland.
~Unknown~

Check out Marianne's Corner for more St. Patrick's Day doings and ditties.