Emerald Island

Emerald Island is calling my name,
longing for it causes no shame;
I’m a proud descendent of the Irish,
watching three leaf clovers flourish.

I lose my key chain at least once a week,
a little elf plays hide and seek;
annoyed, I reach for the Irish whiskey,
mood lightens and I feel frisky.

St. Patrick’s Day is a gala affair,
I reach for something green to wear;
good luck and bad luck are in all my thoughts,
people without green will be caught.

The luck of the Irish is in my soul,
returning there soon is my goal;
Emerald Island is calling my name,
longing for it causes no shame.