karin Posted June 25, 2005 Posted June 25, 2005 yeah well at the monastery i went out i usually dont go out much either now that i think about it
iggy Posted June 25, 2005 Posted June 25, 2005 they don't have a grounds with like chickens and stuff? there is a carmelite monestery a little while from lincoln, and they have some grounds inside their complex
karin Posted June 25, 2005 Posted June 25, 2005 haha i have chickens at my house and i dont care for them
Old_Joe Posted June 25, 2005 Author Posted June 25, 2005 (edited) I'm taking back my Thread! Take this and that :knockout: and how about one of these You guys--> Edited June 25, 2005 by Old_Joe
Extra ecclesiam nulla salus Posted June 25, 2005 Posted June 25, 2005 not many people speak galeic its time to revive it...
Noel's angel Posted June 25, 2005 Posted June 25, 2005 I know I do, but its a dead language. Everyone speaks English or Ulster Scots *shudder*
Old_Joe Posted June 25, 2005 Author Posted June 25, 2005 If I remember correctly there is a school that teaches Gaelic to High school students in Ireland. The students come from all over the country to take classes. i wish I could do that. i could insult people not have them know what I was saying. Either that or make passes in a dead language.
Noel's angel Posted June 25, 2005 Posted June 25, 2005 It's smelly. Our Irish school wouldn't let their kids have First Holy Communion in English, so they had to get a different priest and had it on a different day, during Sunday Mass, in Irish. The kids are like 8, they aren;t gonna understand the Mass in Irish. Most of the parents don't speak it either. The thing about Irish schools is that they speak only Irish until the age of 7, when they do some english, as a second language. When they leave and go out into the real world, they are alienated 'cause they have only made friends with the people in their school who speak Irish. They don't get to know kids from other schools.
Noel's angel Posted June 25, 2005 Posted June 25, 2005 Its called the Gaeltacht and you usually have to speak some Irish before you go, 'cause when you get there you can only speak in Irish. Ulster Scots is really a dialect, but some people say its a language in tis own right. Its really just people who don't speak English properly
Noel's angel Posted June 25, 2005 Posted June 25, 2005 Here's an Ulster Scots poem: ‘Oot here mae lane’ I lift’t the harnesh fae ahint the oul doar, whur it haes hug fae iver I mine, The cullar an’ hames maybe ouler than me, an’ a bit o’ a ravell’t oul’ rein, An’ oul’ bridle an’ straps that sa’ monies a carp, an’ an oul snaffle that shines lak’ a shillin’, I hae cover’t some grun, but mae best deys be’s done, I’m wake but mae spirit is willin’, But I coont that nae shame, the oul mere’s joost the same, an her oul joints be’s startin tae go, ‘but we’re twa o’ kine, we can read ithers mine, aw! I’ll admit ye micht notice is’ slow. Awa doon the bak’ rodden an’ it naw yit clear, in the quateness a jinglin’ chain, A wee burd joins tae sing, for tae welcome the spring, man, it’s nice tae be oot here yer lane, Ye wad think moather earth wus joost wakenin up’, efter hir lang wunter sleep, An’ at the rut o’ the dake somethin else is awake, for the snowdraps be’s joinin’ tae peep. She stans near the slap an’, I tigh’en the straps an’ I yok tae the ploo yince again, The grass is still froze, she blows steam fae hir nose, man, it’s nice tae be oot here yer lane, The rid earth turns o’er as wee lift the furst fur’ an’ the sun hunts the mist fae the lan’, The grey ghosts dissappear, an’ its noo gyely clear, on the headrig a minit we stan. An’ I luk an’ I think, sure lifes only a blink, an’ mae three score an’ ten’s comin’ shane, But if ony mare’s lent, it’s oot here that I’ll spen’t, man, it’s nice tae be oot here yer lane’, I hae nae notion tae quit, for I’m naw joost dane yit, I can still ploo an acre a day, An’ I’m as hearty’s a wean, but for these dam’t oul pains, man, I lake tae be oot here mae lane. I can weel mine the sale whun I first struck the dale, an’ the boy sez ye’ll niver regret, I pye’t richt an’ dear for a three year oul mere’ but she’s walkin in front o’ me yet, At thirteen I wus hir’t, it’s gyely time I retir’t sixty years hae’s flew by far ower shane, But whut wud I dae for tae pit in mae day, beaver dam’t I wud miss bein oot here mae lane.
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