Blue eyes see better in the dark and fair skin burns in the sun.
Irish hearts are more comfortable in a certain amount of pain.
Songs seem more potent,
something like heavy cream,
with a little bit of tragedy lovingly stirred in.  
Irish feet can’t dance without jumping from the devil,
arms kept squarely lifeless for fear of appearing joyful.
Curls bounce to heaven escaping their lot,
to live atop the minds of Gods Irish flock.

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