"Your great-great grandfather was the one who cleared the soil
Your great-grandfather was the one who worked the soil
And your grandfather turned a profit on the land
And your father was the one who sold the land
To become a government functionary
And as for you my young lad,
You don’t know what you will do
In your little 1 bedroom,
Too expensive and cold in the winter
Sometimes a vague desire comes to you
To own something of your own
Dreaming at night
Of having your own little acre of land…”
Yes, by G-d. How did you find that?
Posted by: pbird at October 21, 2014 4:07 PMActually the British proverb is "Shirtsleeves to shirtsleeves in three generations" but it's true.
Posted by: Glenn at October 21, 2014 7:01 PMDamn, that was just about the finest indictment of our culture I've ever heard set to music.
Posted by: Jewel at October 21, 2014 9:02 PMMy mother grew up in a thatched cottage in the west of Ireland. No electricity, no indoor plumbing. The famine was a distant memory. She lived to use cell phones to chat with her grandchildren all over the world. And those grandchildren loved to hear her stories of the village dances that joyfully occupied her young weekends (polkas, waltzes, stack of barley, reels, jigs, etc.), the long talks around the turf fire every evening, the joy of seeing a baby goat scamper about the fields, the stoic draft horse doing his job without complaint.
I suppose it can all be summed up in noting that St. Parrick's Day and All Saints Day were occasions for attending Mass, not getting drunk and dressing up in costume.
Thanks for the evocative video.
Posted by: M.P. Ryan at October 22, 2014 6:50 AM
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