May the road rise up to meet you;
May the wind be always at your back, the sunshine warm upon your faceThe rain fall soft upon your fields,
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of his hand.
May you taste the sweetest pleasures that fortune ere bestowed,
and may all your friends remember all the favors you are owed.
May misfortune follow you the rest of your life,
but never catch up.
As you slide down the banisters of life, may the splinters never point the wrong way.
May your troubles be as few and as far apart as my Grandmother's teeth.
A toast to your coffin.
May it be made of 100-year-old oak.
And may we plant the tree together, tomorrow.
May you live to be a hundred years,
With one extra year to repent!
May I see you grey
And combing your grandchildren's hair.
May your blessings outnumber
the shamrocks that grow,
And may trouble avoid you
wherever you go.
When the roaring flames of your love
have burned down to embers,
may you find that you've married your best friend.
May your home always be too small to hold all your friends.
May the most you wish for
Be the least you get.
May your troubles be less
And your blessings be more.
And nothing but happiness
Come through the door.
May you have food and raiment,
A soft pillow for your head,
May you be forty years in heaven
Before the devil knows you're dead.
May your neighbors respect you,
Trouble neglect you,
The angels protect you,
And heaven accept you,
May the Irish hills caress you.
May her lakes and rivers bless you.
May the luck of the Irish enfold you.
May the blessings of Saint Patrick behold you.