As I sip Guinness, I see snakes,
that Pat promised to rid,
everywhere their darkness quakes,
slithering amid,
dealing with the innocent,
turning them so sour,
where words are filled with sibilance
to darken every hour,
but douse such naivety,
we can’t ignore their tests,
rewards aren’t given easily,
so, tolerate their pests,
for a smile painted, with our deeds,
makes for such a toast,
for in strength, the spirit feeds,
the love we need the most.