16/03/2023.Reading time 2 minutes.
‘The Dear Little Shamrock of Ireland’ by John William Cherry There’s a dear little plant that grows on our isle. ‘Twas St. Patrick himself that sure set it; and the sun on his labour with pleasure did smile, and with dew from his eye often wet it. It shines thro’ the bog. Thro’ the brake […]
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16/03/2022.Reading time 2 minutes.
‘The Dear Little Shamrock of Ireland’ by John William Cherry There’s a dear little plant that grows on our isle. ‘Twas St. Patrick himself that sure set it; and the sun on his labour with pleasure did smile, and with dew from his eye often wet it. It shines thro’ the bog. Thro’ the brake […]
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16/03/2021.Reading time 1 minute.
‘The Dear Little Shamrock of Ireland’ by John William Cherry There’s a dear little plant that grows on our isle. ‘Twas St. Patrick himself that sure set it; and the sun on his labour with pleasure did smile, and with dew from his eye often wet it. It shines thro’ the bog. Thro’ the brake […]
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16/03/2020.Reading time 2 minutes.
‘The Dear Little Shamrock of Ireland’ by John William Cherry There’s a dear little plant that grows on our isle. ‘Twas St. Patrick himself that sure set it; and the sun on his labour with pleasure did smile, and with dew from his eye often wet it. It shines thro’ the bog. Thro’ the brake […]
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16/03/2019.Reading time 1 minute.
‘The Dear Little Shamrock of Ireland’ by John William Cherry There’s a dear little plant that grows on our isle. ‘Twas St. Patrick himself that sure set it; and the sun on his labour with pleasure did smile, and with dew from his eye often wet it. It shines thro’ the bog. Thro’ the brake […]
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16/03/2018.Reading time 1 minute.
‘The Dear Little Shamrock of Ireland’ by John William Cherry There’s a dear little plant that grows on our isle. ‘Twas St. Patrick himself that sure set it; and the sun on his labour with pleasure did smile, and with dew from his eye often wet it. It shines thro’ the bog. Thro’ the brake […]
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16/03/2017.Reading time 1 minute.
There’s a dear little plant that grows on our isle. ‘Twas St. Patrick himself that sure set it; and the sun on his labour with pleasure did smile, and with dew from his eye often wet it. It shines thro’ the bog. Thro’ the brake and the mireland, And he called it the dear little […]
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