Maith a bhean, a hÁine. Bhí sin go h-an dheacair, tá fhoís agam. Comhgairdeas leat, agus go raibh míle maith agat fréisin.

And I also think Joe should hear the lyrics before he tells anybody else to reserve judgement.

Sorry MythHunter, you wont get the lyrics from me, I'm afraid. I know the song of which you speak, and it comes from the same pigsty that so elequently advertised on their sitting room windows - 'No Blacks, No Irish, No Dogs'.

I was fortunate to be sitting in a pub not far from the one Larry was talking about with the 'King' of the Kerry Travellers, one night, when one of the local 'musicians' appeared to do his turn.
On his arrival at the bar, where we were sitting - talking about Elizabeth Cronin, I do believe, he shouted across to the barman:
"I see I'm playing to a crowd of northern bastards and tinkers tonight."

I was livid, considering that he knew nothing whatsoever about this man; who he was, what he had seen, his depth of knowledge and understanding.
I was also moved by the noble way he handled it; he was used to such insults.

As for the song - culture clash?
As in 'a slightly different way of looking at things'?

Yeah, right.

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. But as death by whisky pointed out, this book you can tell by it's cover.

I'm sure our resident 'collector of all treasures' would only jump at the opportunity to assist you on this one, MythHunter, being, as he is, most helpful in situations like this.

The two of you could then go off mythhunting together.
But watch out for Wolfgang, who will be there to check your spelling and syntax at every turn.

Unless, of course, he happens to sympathise with you.
In which case, he wont.

As he didn't.

B.