Jingle jangle

As you know, I am of the opinion that Saint Patrick’s Day is largely an Irish-American construct—the kind of thing an under-appreciated minority puts on to cock a snook at the majority. After all, you don’t really need to celebrate being Irish in Ireland because you’re in, well, you know, Ireland. (Although about 30 years ago they wised up to the potential tourist bonanza it could be and have been raking in the readies ever since.)

You do need to celebrate it in a culture that looks down on you as a jumped-up ignorant bunch of dirt-encrusted, drink-swilling lowlifes who take orders directly from the Pope and lower property values wherever you go.

So not surprising that someone decided to declare Saint Patrick’s Day an occasion for pretending to be Irish by going pub crawling, drinking green beer and singing rebel songs.

Whatever.

I myself don’t venture into bars or taverns on Saint Patrick’s Day because I don’t like mixing with all those amateur drinkers. But I can still express the sentiment with a song or two. 

Here’s one of my all-time favorites, which goes well with a slurp of Cooper’s Croze—“The Auld Triangle”. Written by Dick Shannon in 1952, it became famous when it was featured in Brendan Behan’s 1956 play, The Quare Fella. The play is set in Dublin’s Montjoy Prison, where he was the guest of the Irish government in his youth and where a triangle signaled shifts in the prison’s daily routine.

I once walked along the Royal Canal, singing it to myself. As one does.

Here are The Dubliners singing it. Lift a glass for all enclosed by walls not of their choosing.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu