In my old home of Chicago, today was the day for head-to-toe green and corned beef and cabbage. While we enjoyed the latter yesterday (with homemade fish and chips to boot), I still plan on a Guinness with friends and the wearin’ o’ the green at the Dog and Duck.
If you’re Irish, enjoy your day. If you’re not, stop being so jealous.
Jokes courtesy of Uncle Don Goeres:
Murphy told Quinn that his wife was driving him to drink.
Quinn thinks he’s very lucky because his own wife makes him walk.
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The late Bishop Sheen stated that the reason the Irish fight so often among themselves is that they’re always assured of having a worthy opponent.
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An American lawyer asked, “Paddy, why is it that whenever you ask an Irishman a question, he answers with another question?”
“Who told you that?” asked Paddy.
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Question - Why are Irish jokes so simple?
Answer - So the English can understand them.
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Reilly went to trial for armed robbery. The jury foreman came out and announced, “Not guilty.”
“That’s grand!” shouted Reilly. “Does that mean I can keep the money?”
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Irish lass customer: “Could I be trying on that dress in the window?”
Shopkeeper: “I’d prefer that you use the dressing room.”
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Mrs. Feeney shouted from the kitchen, “Is that you I hear spittin’ in the vase on the mantle piece?”
“No,” said himself, “but I’m gettin’ closer all the time.”
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Q. What do you call an Irishman who knows how to control a wife?
A. A bachelor.
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Finnegin: My wife has a terrible habit of staying up ’til two o’clock in the morning. I can’t break her of it.
Keenan: What on earth is she doin’ at that time?
Finnegin: Waitin’ for me to come home
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Slaney phoned the maternity ward at the hospital.. “Quick!” He said, “Send an ambulance, my wife is goin’ to have a baby!”
“Tell me, is this her first baby?” the intern asked.
“No, this is her husband, Kevin, speakin’.”
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“O’Ryan,” asked the druggist, “did that mudpack I gave you improve your wife’s appearance?”
“It did surely,” replied O’Ryan, “but it keeps fallin’ off!”
{ 5 comments… read them below or add one }
Q: what’s the difference between an irish wedding and an irish funeral?
A: one less drunk.
Aye, be sure to be knowin’ that the deceased himself had a drink before he passed.
Happy Passover! Wait…that’s not right.
More jokes:
Letter from an Irish Mother to her Son
Dear Son,
Just a few lines to let you know I’m still alive. I’m writing this letter slowly because I know you can’t read fast. We are all doing very well.
You won’t recognise the house when you get home - we have moved. Your dad read in the newspaper that most accidents happen within 20 miles from your home, so we moved. I won’t be able to send you the address because the last Irish family that lived here took the house numbers when they moved so that they wouldn’t have to change their address.
This place is really nice. It even has a washing machine. I’m not sure it works so well though: last week I put a load in and pulled the chain and haven’t seen them since.
Your father’s got a really good job now. He’s got 500 men under him. He’s cutting the grass at the cemetery.
Your sister Mary had a baby this morning but I haven’t found out if it’s a boy or a girl, so I don’t know whether you are an auntie or an uncle.
Your brother Tom is still in the army. He’s only been there a short while and they’ve already made him a court martial!
Your Uncle Patrick drowned last week in a vat of whiskey in the Dublin Brewery. Some of his workmates tried to save him but he fought them off bravely. They cremated him and it took three days to put out the fire.
I’m sorry to say that your cousin Seamus was arrested while riding his bicycle last week. They are charging him with dope peddling.
I went to the doctor on Thursday and your father went with me. The doctor put a small tube in my mouth and told me not to talk for ten minutes. Your father offered to buy it from him.
The weather isn’t bad here. It only rained twice this week, first for three days and then for four days. Monday was so windy one of the chickens laid the same egg four times.
We had a letter from the under-taker. He said if the last payment on your Grandmother’s plot wasn’t paid in seven days, up she comes.
About that coat you wanted me to send you, your Uncle Stanley said it would be too heavy to send in the mail with the buttons on, so we cut them off and put them in the pockets.
John locked his keys in the car yesterday. We were really worried because it took him two hours to get me and your father out.
Three of your friends went off a bridge in a pick-up truck. Ralph was driving. He rolled down the window and swam to safety. Your other two friends were in back. They drowned because they couldn’t get the tailgate down.
There isn’t much more news at this time. Nothing much has happened.
Your loving Mum
P.S. I was going to send you some money but I had already sealed the envelope.
“Your father’s got a really good job now. He’s got 500 men under him. He’s cutting the grass at the cemetery.”
I first heard this story when John O’Callaghan retired from Sward School on the South Side. They had an assembly for him and I used to help him (head custodian) after lunches and stuff. Great old guy and a funny story. My friend John VanderLinde dressed up as an old Irish mom and read the same words.
Thanks for the post. Good memories.
BTW - Austin doesn’t do Irish right. It’s a good thing you’re moving to Irish Chicago, Matt.
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