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One Hundred Thousand Welcomes
It's time to get your green on and head to The Raglan Road™ Irish Pub and Restaurant where the cuisine is Irish and every day is a celebration of all things Irish. Traditional pub fare is served in a spirited atmosphere. Enjoy beer on tap and live nightly entertainment. This is a favorite stop of ours anytime of year. Very relaxed and welcoming and the food is great! I'll be posting some pictures soon.
Located in Downtown Disney, West Side.
Prices Range: $$ ($15 to $35.99)
Before you enter the pub, look for the bronze statue of the famous Irish poet, Patrick Kavanagh sitting on a park bench in front. Regarded as one of the foremost poets of the 20th century, Patrick Kavanagh's best known works include the novel Tarry Flynn and the poems Raglan Road (thus the name of the pub) and The Great Hunger. Patrick Kavanagh was often seen relaxing alone on a park bench by the Grand canal in
To this day, after every St. Patrick's Day parade you'll find his friends gathering at the bench.
Today, the only replica of this statue is found right outside The Raglan Road Pub and Restaurant
Raglan Road
On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew that her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way, And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.
On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion's pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay -O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away.
I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that's known
To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now
I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that's known
To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow that I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay -When the angel woos the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day.
-- Patrick Kavanagh
Saol fada chugat,Happy St. Patrick's Day!
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