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| Eamon--Irish Storyteller |
| Top o' the marnin' to ye. I'm Eamon O'Brian, born in Belfast, Ireland the 12th of January in the wint'r of '77. Now I don't know what ya've been told til now, but let me assure ye that I'm not just some drunk that lingered around the bar until someone took notice and gave me a job. Quite the contrary. I began comin' ta the Hall about a year and a half ago. Mainly to partake in the Guiness but I started to tell my stories of me home. I described in detail the emerald hills of my belov'd Ireland and people took ta list'nin'. Then I started telling the old tales of the Leprechauns and the Faeries of my land, old Celtic and Gaelic traditions passed on--'tis my job to keep tha oral tradition fresh. So there came times when my stories enthralled all the crowd and I stopped buying my own beer. |
| Many a barroom brawl began with the swing o' my fists, aye, and I don't regret a single punch. Vladimir and I were able to get the riff raff out of the pub and keep my bar free of the vermin. I know it's Keoki's bar but as an Irishman I'm quite territorial. So when the occasional leprechaun trapses in tha door I will let 'im know his place and won't take me eyes off 'im. I'll get those lucky charms, I will. |
| Katie and I began a talkin' one night about our home and I said that I needed to make a choice. Stay in the Hall or go to my darlin' country, Ireland? Well, I made mention that the story I was telling would be my last. Keoki wouldn't hear of it and the rest is it's own story, too long to tell at this moment in this way. Aye, I stay here and drink my Guiness ale and get pissed, wearin' my kilt and thwartin' the leprechauns and faeries. I tell my stories and people listen. Not because I'm talkin' but because the story wants ta be heard. |
| pots o' gold or pints o' beer have been lost to this Irishman. |
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