In Galway, the plural 'you' never died

There’s a small miracle in the west of Ireland: the word ye never died here.

Most places let it slip into the past with thatched roofs
and horses on city streets -
but not Galway.

Here, language hangs on like ivy to a limestone wall.

“Are ye going into town?”
“I will yeah.” (meaning: absolutely not)
“Ye’re only fierce gas.”

A little plural pronoun, a tiny rebellion.
A reminder that Irish English didn’t trickle from Oxford
—it grew out of bog and rain and laughter,
half Gaelic, half something older than London remembers.

“Ye” survived because Galway likes the company of others:
the plural, the collective, the clan.
Even the grammar refuses to be alone.

And in a world flattening itself into one smooth voice,
it’s comforting that here
on the edge of the Atlantic,
a stubborn word still stands guard
against the loneliness of modern speech.

Galway keeps its plural heart.