Who are you Thomas Casey?
To flee the Green Isle,
To leave seed and die
On foreign soil.

Who for so long
Was unknown, a wish,
An intuition, singing
Celticly in an American heart.

For forty years the Green
Alone sufficed for celebration,
And with foreign heart
I envied, observing passively.

But you, Thomas Casey,
Authenticate my ear
For pipe and harp, validate the Green
And verify the Shamrock.

03/16/2002

Posted on 03/16/2002
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