May the road rise up to meet you,
But please do not meet up with anyone else.
May the winds be at your back,
And your coughs be in your elbow.
May the sun shine upon your face,
The rain fall upon your fields,
And until we meet again, in no less than fourteen days,
Though potentially up to four months,
May God hold you in the palm of his thoroughly washed hand.
May the Irish hills caress you,
But not upon your face.
May the hills please scrub their grass first,
Or better, stay in place.
May all the soap you use
be Irish Spring.
(Sponsored by Irish Spring.)
May the winds of fortune sail you,
may you sail a gentle sea,
may you do so ‘voiding mass transit,
like the bus or the ferry.
May you build yourself a raft then
With empty bottles of Purell
And may the bastards that did hoard it
Sanitize straight to hell.
May the month you go back outside…
Sorry, May is the month you will go back outside.
Please do not come out before that.
Actually, double-check the CDC recommendation because even May might be a little too optimistic.
May you always be blessed with walls for the wind,
Wi-Fi for the Zoom,
And FaceTime to keep you connected,
Canned food to sustain you,
Netflix to entertain you,
With more good content than you had expected.
Also The Circle.
May Irish blessings be your source of wisdom,
And Google Images be your source of Irish blessings.