McNamara's Band

Dad loved St. Patrick's Day. He woke us up in the morning singing/yelling McNamara's band--or at least his own version of it because no one in my family ever sings the right words to any song. He would march around the house singing until we were all well awake. He wore an old green tie with a leprachaun's pipe on it.

Dad loved to make "magic" green pancakes, "magic" milk, "magic" milkshakes, and anything else he could dye green. I think St. Patrick's Day was his favorite day of the year. It was a day to be silly and have fun--no matter what else was going on in our lives. Dad was sure he was Irish, and had us all convinced that we were, but the jury is still out on that--and it's not looking good for the little leprachaun. It really doesn't matter, though, because on St. Patrick's Day everybody is Irish. Our hearts will always be in Ireland for Dad, no matter where the blood line goes.

Family members have all been talking today about how much we miss Dad on St. Patrick's Day. No matter how many years go by, St. Patrick's Day will never quite be the same without him.

Dad, as you look down on us, you might try learning the real lyrics to McNamara's Band. Love ya!

McNamara's Band

Oh! Me name is McNamara,
I'm the leader of the band.
Although we're few in numbers
We're the finest in the land.
We play at wakes and weddings
And at ev'ry fancy ball,
And when we play to funerals
We play the march from Saul.

Oh! The drums go bang,
And the cymbals clang,
And the horns they blaze away;
McCarthy pumps the old bassoon
While I the pipes do play;
And Hennessey Tennessee tootles the flute,
And the music is somethin' grand;
A credit to old Ireland is McNamara's band.

Oh! My name is Uncle Yulius and
From Sweden have I come,
To play with McNamara's band
And bear the big bass drum,
And when I march along the street
The ladies think I'm grand
They shout "There's Uncle Yulius
Playing with an Irish band"

Oh! I wear a bunch of shamrocks
And a uniform of green,
And I'm the funniest looking Swede
That you have ever seen.
There's O'Briens and Ryans
And Sheehans and Meehans
They come from Ireland, but by Yimminy
I'm the only Swede in McNamara's band.

Oh! The drums go bang,
And the cymbals clang,
And the horns they blaze away;
McCarthy pumps the old bassoon
While I the pipes do play;
And Hennessey Tennessee tootles the flute,
And the music is somethin' grand;
A credit to old Ireland is McNamara's band.

Written by O'Connor and Stanford