In addition to being unaplogetically pro-American & 1/2 Irish by heritage I'm VERY sympathetic not just to Republicanism but more so to the Irish People themselves.If you welcome those things in a friend,I'd be pleased to make your acquaintance.If not we can each of us make friends elsewhere.Yeh with me there love ;/ ?
God Bless the U.S.A & God Be With You Ireland.
EIRE SAOR
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ALL SECTARIAN BIGOTED ANTI-AMERICAN,ANTI-IRISH,OR ANTI-CATHOLIC COMMENTS & USERS ARE BANNED FROM THIS PAGE.
ALSO ALL loyalist/brit CLONES WILL AUTOMATICALLY BE BANNED FROM JOINING OR COMMENTING ON THIS PG
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"It is not those who inflict the most but those that can suffer the most who will conquer." -Terrance MacSwiney

I'm a man that believes in God,My Family & Heritage & My Country.In that order
Pretty much everything about me fits into one of those catagories.
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---Novena to St.Michael------
Glorious St.Michael guardian & defender of the church of Jesus Christ,please come to the assistance of His followers against whom the powers of hell are unchained.Please guard with special care our Holy Father the Pope,all our bishops,priests & religous lay people,especially,the children.St.Michael please watch over us during life,defend us against the assaults of the demon & assist us especially at the hour of death.Please help us to achieve the
happiness of beholding God face to face for all eternity.Amen
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---|||---|||---Put this on youre channel
---|||---|||- In rememberence of the people
----\\\-///--- Murdered by British soldiers
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...____________________ , ,
....../ `---___________----_____|]░ ▒▓▓█D
...../_==o;;;;;;;;_______.:/ Up The Ra
.....), ---.(_(__) /
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Weeping Winds-Bobby Sands

Oh! Cold March winds your cruel laments
Are hard on prisoners' hearts,
For you bring my mother's pleading cries
From whom I have to part.
I hear her weeping lonely sobs
Her sorrows sweep me by,
And in the dark of prison cell
A tear has warmed my eye.
Oh! Whistling winds why do you weep
When roaming free you are,
Oh! Lonely winds that walk the night
To haunt the sinner's soul
Pray pity me a wretched lad
Who never will grow old.
Pray pity those who lie in pain
The bondsman and the slave,
And whisper sweet the breath of God
Upon my humble grave.
Oh! Cold March winds that pierce the dark
You cry in aged tones
For souls of folk you've brought to God
But still you bear the moans.
Oh! Weeping wind this lonely night
My mother's heart is sore,
Oh! Lord of all breathe freedom's breath
That she may weep no more.