Saturday, March 17, 2018

Irish whimsy, St. Paddy's Day (jokes, poetry)

Dhr. Seven, Pat Macpherson; Ashley Wells (ed.) Wisdom Quarterly  Saint Patrick's Day 2018

(SNL) What if Ireland were a real place where people dated, frolicked, and science okayed it?
Parson's Nose presents "An Irish Celebration" in Los Angeles (

To a drop of the craythur I was born
a thimble of whiskey, a mash of the corn

Unlike Bushmills a comforting 'board
No room for the cups where the tankards are stored

To a tuber's fine tincture I was turned on
a poteen, a poiton, all mellow and brown

A Liam, a Rhea, a Ryan, a Rip
around a cadaver a sway and a sip

A Pat, a Maria, a Michael, and a Mc
slosh the carcass in a rite Cath'lic rinse

Shillelagh to shake shellac shenanigans
Sheet 'n shout 'n shoot sharp shingles to shush 'em

Unsheathe and shear and bathe sheep in springs
Finn'-Ph'n, friend us again...
  • “Finn?
  • Aye, Finnegan.
  • Friend, how so?

The great Irish writer James Joyce based his magnum opus, Finnegans Wake, on the Irish ditty "Finnegan's Wake" here performed with lyrics by The Irish Rovers.
File:Riders of the Sidhe.jpg
Triumph of the Fairies: The Tuatha De Danann or "Peoples of the Goddess Danu"
“Finnegan's Awake
Siddhartha saw samsara end
Revolving Round, spin no more instead
But we pose to our old friend
Come, Finnegan, become again!

What is a wake, to raise the dead?
Then shimmy toss my own two cents!
Shake the spirit and rouse the breath
Come, Finnegan, become again!

Shirley, Shannon, and Shay ahem
Like fiendish Daughters of the F'end
To pull thee from thy 'sorption then
Pale in search of spirits in a pen

Corked and screwed and waxed wick end
Bitter as the grape, Guinness, or grain
I say, I sing, I say again
Come, Finnegan, become again!

Now, Finn, he was a faithful Ph'n,
Phineas with half a head,
Who blew the top to smith' or rent
Come, Finnegan, become again!

Rocket to Murgatroyd
Murgatroyd's rock 't sea in ink
presses on lads whom it hurts to think
liberates the tongue as good as drink
Come, Finnegan, become again!

Wan wolves who wander for crimson drink
Retch and writhe by 'bane beside a splint
Hale men who haggle at Haddock hint
Then writhe and wretch to get a stint

A Shropshire Lad, a filly wink
Bard of Avon, cauldron ingredient
A skinny Finny to feed the fink
Finn-Ph'n, friend us again!

Ne plus ultra naiad and nymph
Dryad, damsel of Dark Forest, minx
Meadow maiden of mirth and myth
Finn-Ph'n, friend us again... and so on.
  • When will you be performing it in its entirety, Seacht?
  • Ah, Podge, tonight and tomorrow at The Parson's Nose. You and Donal will be there to back me on fiddle and drum?
  • We sure will, if only to hear your cheeky jokes!
  • Oh, jokes, is it? Would you like to hear one now?
  • I think everyone would like to!
Traditional Irish jokes: The Housewife
New York City downplays its illustrious past of anti-Irish racism with a parade (AP)
Let me tell you what Seamus and I expect.
One lad married a Welsh gal and said to her, “I expect a warm dinner every night, the laundry done, and the house clean!” He didn't notice any change on the first day. And he didn't notice any change on the second day. But by the third day, there was a warm dinner on the table, the laundry was done, and the house was clean.
A second lad married a Scottish gal and said to her, “I expect a hearty lunch, a warm dinner every night, the laundry done, and the house clean!” He didn't notice any change on the first day. And he didn't notice any change on the second day. But by the third day, there was a hearty lunch on the table, a warm dinner, the laundry was done, and the house was clean.
You expect me to do what, husband?
A third lad married an Irish gal and said to her, “I expect three warm meals on the table every day, the dishes washed, the laundry done, the house clean, and I don't want any lip!”

He didn't notice any change on the first day. And he didn't notice any change on the second day. But by the third day, the swelling had gone down and he was able to move his arm enough to make himself a sandwich and load the dishwasher. He still has trouble when he pees.
  • Tell us another!
Who dares to question?
Happily we live obeying all our rules.
A young man, weary of the foolish world, desiring only peace and solitude, decided to retire to an Irish hermitage. On his first day in the monastery, the abbot welcomed him into the great hall. As he entered, he could not believe his eyes: row after row of bald scribes hard at work.
“What's happening, Father?”
“We're making copies. We do it all day long!”
“Copies, Father, copies of what?”
“Why, copies of the Bible and the rules, of course!”
“But, Father, where are you making these copies from?”
“From earlier copies, of course.”
“You're making copies of copies from copies?!”
“We do it all day long!”
“But, Father, what if someone were to make a mistake?”
“I don't follow.”
“If someone ever made a mistake transcribing, you'd be copying that mistake over and over!”
“Look, smart guy, why don't you make it your job to check the original?”
The library'll help me get to the bottom of this.
“I will,” the young man said, then paid a visit to the monastery's creepy old library. As he arrived, he heard a strange drumbeat, Thump-thump-thump... Hesitantly, he ventured into the dark stacks until he came to a light in the inner sanctum. There he saw an old monk, the librarian, banging his head on a table next to an ancient book.
He dashed in and asked, "What is it, Father?!” The old monk stood up, pointed a trembling finger down at the ancient book, and announced: "Look, the original actually says celibrate! Ce-li-brate!!!”

It's a miracle!
Just plain water, officer.
An Irish priest pulls out of the church parking lot and starts swerving down the road. A policeman pulls him over. He immediately smells alcohol on the priest's breath and notices an empty wine bottle in the car.
The policeman asks, “Been drinking, Father?”

“Just water,” explains the priest.
The cop replies, “Then why do I smell wine?”
The priest looks at the bottle and exclaims, “Good Lord! He's done it again!”

The Dead
One morning Seamus opens the newspaper and is shocked to see his OWN obituary.
In a panic, he phones his friend O'Carrigan and asks: “Did you see the paper?! They say I died!”
His friend replies: “Yes, Seamus, I did see it....So, where ya calling from?”

A last request
After mass one Sunday, a sobbing Biddy Murphy approaches Father O’Grady.
He asks, “What’s bothering you, Biddy?”
She replies, “Oh, Father, I’ve terrible news! My husband, Gilly, he passed away last night!”
The priest says, “Oh, Biddy, that is terrible! Did he have any last requests?”
“That he did, Father,” she replies. “He said, 'Please, Biddy, put down that damn gun’.”

A new life
Bartender, I'll have three shots of whiskey.
An Irishman wakes up one morning and decides to lead a healthy life. He boards a plane and moves to California. But he soon comes down with a terrible case of homesickness. There's no remedy until someone suggests he find an authentic Irish pub to feel more at home.

He finds one. And as soon as he walks in and smells its wonderful odors, he starts feeling much better. He calls to the bartender at the other side of the room, “Barkeep, three whiskeys!”

The barman pours the shots and brings them over. “Oi, did you order three shots?”

“Aye, I did!”

The barman asks, “Why don't you tell me next time that they're just for you, that way I can put all three in one glass?”

The Irishman replies: “No! I have two brothers at home, so every time I come into a pub, I order a shot for each of them.”

“That's a lovely family tradition,” the barman commends. The following week, the Irishman walks in and orders just two whiskeys.
The barman brings them. And with a look of concern asks, “Oi, did something happen one of your brothers?”

“No. Why do you ask?” replies the Irishman.

“It's just that last week, you ordered three...did one of your brothers die?”

“Oh no, no! It's just that I've decided to stop drinking!”

Oi vey, public workers!
Two Irishmen were working for the public works department in the park. One would dig a hole and the other would follow behind him and fill the hole in.
After a while, some amazed onlookers said: “Why do you dig a hole, only to have your partner follow behind and fill it up again?”
The hole digger wiped his brow and sighed, “Well, I suppose it probably looks odd because we're normally a three-person team. But today the lad who plants the trees called in sick.”
    (The Dubliners) "Seven Drunken Nights" animated version of a famous humorous Irish song

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