|Paddy was an inveterate drunkard. The priest met him one day, and gave him a strong lecture about drink. He said, "If you continue drinking as you do, you'll gradually get smaller and smaller, and eventually you'll turn into a mouse." This frightened the life out of Paddy. He went home that night, and said to his wife, "Bridget....if you should notice me getting smaller and smaller, will ye kill that blasted cat?"
|A surgeon and an architect, both English, were joined by an Irish politician, and all fell to arguing as to whose profession was the oldest. Said the surgeon, "Eve was made from Adam's rib, and that surely was a surgical operation." "Maybe," said the architect, "but prior to that, order was created out of chaos, and that was an architectural job." "Shure now," interrupted the politician, "but somebody created the chaos first."
|Some years ago, Michael J. Flanagan, a successful New York contractor, was standing on the deck of the Staten Island Ferry when a car got loose and sent him into the river where he drowned. The following Sunday his widow, all decked out in deepest black, was standing on the church steps after Mass, receiving condolences and enjoying every minute of it, when an old friend of the contractor came up. "I'm sorry, Mary, for your trouble," offered the friend. "Did Mike leave you well fixed?" "Oh, he did!" she said. "He left me almost a half million dollars." "Well now, that's not bad for a man who couldn't read or write." "Nor swim either," added the widow.
|The American tourist in Dublin had been complaining a great deal about the food. "Here," he said to the waitress holding out a piece of meat for inspection, "do you call that pig?" "Which end of the fork, sir?" the waitress asked sweetly.
|The Boston taxi driver backed into the stationary fruit stall and within seconds he had a cop beside him. "Name?" "Brendan O'Connor." "Same as mine. Where are you from?" "County Cork." "Same as me......" The policeman paused with his pen in the air. "Hold on a moment and I'll come back and talk about the old county. I want to say something to this fella that ran into the back of your cab."
|The origin of the bagpipes was being discussed and the representatives of different nations were eagerly disclaiming responsibility for the instrument. Finally, and Irishman said, "Well, I'll tell you the truth about it. The Irish invented them and sold them to the Scots as a joke; and the Scots haven't seen the joke yet!"
|This is a true story of the late Irish author Brendan Behan who one night collapsed in a diabetic coma in a Dublin street. It was at a time when he was at the height of his drunken notoriety and passes-by naturally thought he was dead drunk. They took him to the nearby surgery of one of Dublin's most fashionable and respected doctors. The doctor decided to take a cardiograph and, somewhat nervous of his patient, thought to humor him. He explained the workings of the cardiograph needle as it registered the faint heartbeats of the very sick and semiconscious Brendan. "That needle there is writing down your pulses, Mr. Behan, and I suppose, in its own way, it is probably the most important thing you have ever written." To which Behan replied: "Aye, and it's straight from me heart, too."
|Three old ladies met on the street on a very stormy day. The wind was so strong and loud that they had difficulty in hearing each other. "It's windy," said one. "No, it's Thursday," said the next. "So am I," said the third. "Let's go and have a drink!"
|Two Irish friends greeted each other while waiting their turn at the bank window. "This reminds me of Finnegan," remarked one. "What about Finnegan?" inquired the other. "'Tis a story that Finnegan died, and when he greeted St. Peter, he said: 'It's a fine job you've had here for a long time.' 'Well, Finnegan,' said St. Peter, 'here we count a million years as a minute and a million dollars as a cent.' 'Ah!' said Finnegan, 'I'm needing cash. Lend me a cent.' 'Sure,' said St. Peter, 'just wait a minute.'"
|Hennessy wasn't a very good looking fellow to start with. Now his business had failed, and his wife and family had left him. Depressed and distracted, he was standing near the edge of the bridge, contemplating suicide. Suddenly, he sensed that someone was behind him, and turning around he saw an ugly little old leprechaun. "Don't jump," she said, and I'll grant you three wishes." "Right," he said. "my first wish is to have $100,000." She said, "When you check your account, you will find that you are in credit to that amount." He then said, "My second wish is to have my wife and children back." She said, "They will be there when you get home." He said, "My third wish is to be tall and handsome." She said, When you look in the mirror, you will find that your wish has been granted." Then she added, "I want you to do something in return for me. I want you to kiss me." He looked at her and shuddered at the thought. But under the circumstances he thought he should do as she wanted. He took her in his arms and kissed her again and again. She said, "What age are you?" He replied, "I'm forty." She said, "Don't you think that you're a bit too old to be believing in leprechauns?"
|"And how's yer wife, Pat?" "Sure, she do be awful sick." "Is ut dangerous she is?" "No, she's too weak t' be dangerous anymore!"
|"Didja hear the news?" asked Keenan of his pal at the saloon. "Harrigan drank so much, his wife left him!" "Bartender! Give me six boilermakers!!"
|Mrs. Ryan, a mean looking woman, claimed her husband was not thoughtful. In this she was wrong; her husband thought about her too much. One morning on his way to work, he thought about her so much that he got off the subway at 34th Street and went to the Greyhound Terminal and took a bus to Yuma, Arizona.
|Murphy and his wife, a middle-aged couple, went for a stroll in the park. They say down on a bench to rest. They overheard voices coming from a secluded spot. Suddenly Mrs. Murphy realized that a young man was about to propose. Not wanting to eavesdrop at such an intimate moment, she nudged her husband and whispered, "Whistle and let that young couple know that someone can hear them." Murphy said, "Whistle? Why should I whistle? Nobody whistled to warn me."
|O'Toole volunteered to take care of his numerous children so that Mom could have an evening out. At bedtime he sent the youngsters upstairs to bed and settled down to read. One child kept creeping down the stairs, but O'Toole kept sending him back up. At 10 o'clock the doorbell rang. It was the next door neighbor, Mrs. O'Brien. She asked if her son was there and O'Toole said no. Just then a little head appeared over the banister and a voice shouted. "I'm here Mom, but he won't let me go home."
|"And how much of that stack of hay did you steal, Kavanaugh?" the priest asked at confession. "I might as well confess to the whole stack, your Reverence," said Kavanaugh. "I'm goin' after the rest of it tonight!"
|Boyle sat in a Belfast confessional. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," he said. "I've blown up three hundred miles of English railroad!" "All right, my son," admonished the priest. "For penance, finish off the stations!"
|Father Murphy met Casey in the street and Casey admired his new umbrella. Father Murphy said, "Thank you, but I'm not sure I got it honestly. It started to rain the other day, and I stepped into a doorway to wait until it stopped. Then I saw a young fellow coming along with a nice large umbrella, and I thought that if he was going as far as my house, I'd ask him to share it with me. I stepped out from the doorway and said, 'Where are you going with that umbrella?' And he dropped the darned thing and ran."
|Father Murphy walks into a pub in Donegal, and says to the first man he meets, "Do you want to go to heaven?" The man said, "I do Father." The priest said, "Then stand over there against the wall." Then the priest asked the second man, "Do you want to got to heaven?" "Certainly, Father," was the man's reply. "Then stand over there against the wall," said the priest. Then Father Murphy walked up to O'Toole and said, "Do you want to go to heaven?" O'Toole said, "No, I don't Father." The priest said, "I don't believe this. You mean to tell me that when you die you don't want to go to heaven?" O'Toole said, "Oh, when I die, yes. I thought you were getting a group together to go right now."
|O'Toole worked in the lumber yard for twenty years and all that time he'd been stealing the wood and selling it. At last his conscience began to bother him and he went to confession to repent. "Father, it's 15 years since my last confession, and I've been stealing wood from the lumber yard all those years," he told the priest. "I understand my son," says the priest. "Can you make a Novena?" O'Toole said, "Father, if you have the plans, I've got the lumber."
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