For all the too-cool-for-you types who have turned Danny Boy requests into a snobbish joke, here's the deal, and I speak for a few others:
When I hear Irish Eyes, I remember my dear sweet apple-cheeked mother's soprano as she took the time to teach me songs.
When I hear Danny Boy, I remember how much my Dad loved it, and how he was carried off to the eternal to its strains.
If I go somewhere on St. Patrick's, I expect to hear your chosen set only. But if you ask for requests, then try to honor them, and if you can't, it would be taking the higher ground if you could at least spare us the cheap 'humor' at the expense of traditions other people held dear. It's not as funny as you think.