luckybastards-mc.com

                                

I was testing children in my Glasgow Sunday School class to see if they understood the concept of getting into Heaven.

I asked them, “If I sold my house, my car, had a big sale and gave all my money to the church, would that get me into Heaven?”

“NO!” the children answered.

“If I cleaned the church every day, mowed the lawn and kept everything tidy, would that get me into Heaven?”

Again, the answer was, “No!”

By now I was starting to smile. “Well then if I was kind to all the little animals and birds and fed them every day, gave sweets and toys to all the children and said a prayer for everyone, would that get me into Heaven?”

Again, they all answered, “No!”

I was just bursting with pride for them. I then put the question out to the whole class, “Well then how can I get into Heaven?”

It was then that six year old Wallis shouted out, “Yuv got tae be fukin’ dead !”

It kinda brought a wee tear tae your eye, din it !

IF…..

IF you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:If you can dream – and not make dreams your master; If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, ‘ Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch, if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

The utterly impractical, never predictable, Sometimes irascible, quite inexplicable, Irish.Strange blend of shyness, pride and conceit, And stubborn refusal to bow in defeat. He’s spoiling and ready to argue and fight, Yet the smile of a child fills his soul with delight. His eyes are the quickest to well up with tears, Yet his strength is the strongest to banish your fears. His hate is as fierce as his devotion is grand, And there is no middle ground on which he will stand. He’s wild and he’s gentle, he’s good and he’s bad. He’s proud and he’s humble, he’s happy and sad. He’s in love with the ocean, the earth and the skies, He’s enamoured with beauty wherever it lies. He’s victor and victim, a star and a clod, But mostly he’s Irish— in love with his God.