On Saint Patrick's Day

All Irishmen on earth today
  Are surely merry and glad and gay,
Yet through it all, I staunch shall say,
  "I do not keep Saint Patrick's Day."

Ev'ry lubber's son of middling birth
  Is quick to don a copied mirth,
And claim a special kinship dear
  ("I have no Irish blood, I fear")

And all my peeps in Ch'cagoland
  Wear green, for such is the command,
And all get quite assuredly drunk —
  "Saint Patrick's Day is a load of bunk."

Saint Patrick is now in Heav'n's bliss,
  And looks on all with love, i'wis —
And since his Church mine own I call,
  I shall this day keep after all.