in which this is the foggy dew

The past couple of days have been foggy, rain hovering (unfallen, luckily) overhead--a lot like Ireland, really, which is appropriate considering that St. Patrick's Day is this weekend. I guess you can call this my pastel tribute to St. Paddy. It's kind of funny, I really don't own any green clothes. Or purple, for that matter. They just don't really look that good on me (I'm so pale, they usually just make me look sickly and/or tired). Anyway, this is never really a problem until St. Patrick's Day rolls around and I need a green outfit to wear onstage. Last year I cheated and just wore green tights, but I may have to pull a similar stunt this Saturday...

(sweater/belt/blouse: goodwill; socks: uo; shoes: lulu*s)

Tonight is Art Club, and then I'm off into the woods for the weekend! Here's hoping my car survives the drive (you haven't experienced mud season until you've been to rural Vermont in early spring). And I'll leave you with a traditional Irish song (more for my benefit--I'll be singing it for the first time on Saturday and I need to try my best to remember the words!):

The Foggy Dew

'Twas down by the glen one Easter morn, to a city far road I

When Ireland's lines of marching men in squadrons passed me by

No pipe did hum and no battle drum did sound its dread tattoo

But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey swell rang out in the foggy dew

Right proudly high over Dublin town they hung out a flag of war

'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky than in Sulva or Sud El Bar

Then from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through

While Brittania's sons with their long range guns sailed in from the foggy dew

'Twas England bade our wild geese go that small nations might be free

Their lonely graves by Sulva's waves on the fringe of the gray North Sea

But had they died by Pearse's side or fought with Valera true

Their graves we'd keep where the Fenians sleep on the hills of the foggy dew

The bravest fell and the solemn bell rang mournfully and clear

For those that died that Eastertide in the springing of the year

And the world did gaze in deep amaze at those fearless men and true

Who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the foggy dew