A guy walks into a bar..wait..that's a bakery
Let’s call him Andy, for starters. He’s a special educator, hates his job, saves his money and quits. He’s never been to Ireland, where his parents are from, so he finds a cheap flight and gets on the plane. The answer for his dead-end life, he thinks, is finding an Irish wife. Maybe he has read Thomas D’Arcy McGee’s poem, “The Irish Wife,” with the stanza: My Irish wife has clear blue eyes, My heaven by day, my stars by night; And twin-like truth and fondness lie Within her swelling bosom white My Irish wife has golden hair, Apollo’s harp had once such strings, Apollo’s self might pause to hear Her bird-like carol when she sings. Or maybe he knows the Irish are known for story-telling, a sense of humor and love of family. Their hearts are warm, their dispositions happy. Irish women make tasty Irish stews, corned beef and cabbage and soda bread. And an Irish woman can hold