Riffs: As Irish as Paddy's Pig

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Pentimento has put up a post featuring some beautiful Irish music, and in the comment box over there I've contributed a couple of others. And this has brought to mind this song that I love almost beyond all others. Once in while, far into a dark Bronx night, my friend Bobby Hackett would bring his guitar down from his mother's apartment down the block, and we would would sing--my drunken Irish friends and I--this song, the beer running down the fronts of our shirts, and the tears streaming down our cheeks. It was always in Huvanes that we sang this song--for some reason, never in the Glenside, my "home" pub. Listen to it, then. And if you can do it without emitting a sob, then there's something drastically wrong wit'yez:



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