Irish jokes

malico · 28-01-2004 12:05pm #1

A man named Muldoon lived alone in the Irish countryside for years, with a pet dog that he loved. The dog finally died, and Muldoon went to the parish priest and asked, "Father, my dog is dead. Could ya' be saying' a mass for the creature?"

Father Patrick replied, "I'm afraid not, we cannot have services for an animal in church, but there is a new denomination down the lane and there's no tellin' what they believe. Maybe they'll do something for the creature."

Muldoon said, "I'll go right away Father.... Do ya' think $5,000 is enough for me to donate to them for the service?" Father Patrick exclaimed, "Sweet Mary Mother of Jesus!....Why didn't ya' tell me the dog was Catholic?

A drunk staggers into a Roman Catholic Church, enters a confessional booth, sits down but says nothing. The Priest coughs a few times to get his attention but the drunk just sits there. Finally, the Priest pounds three times on the wall. The drunk mumbles, "ain't no use knockin, there's no paper on this side either".

Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp.

What happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender.

"Jamie O'Connor and me had a fight," says Paddy. "That little sod, O'Connor," says Sean, "He couldn't do that to you, he must have had something in his hand."

"That he did," says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin' he gave me with it."

"Well," says Sean, "you should have defended yourself. Didn't you have something in your hand?"

"That I did," said Paddy. "Mrs. O'Connor's breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight."

Three Irishmen, Paddy, Sean and Seamus, were stumbling home from the pub late one night and found themselves on the road which led past the old graveyard.

"Come have a look over here," says Paddy, "It's Michael O'Grady's grave, God bless his soul. He lived to the ripe old age of 87." "That's nothing", says Sean, "here's one named Patrick O'Toole, it says here that he was 95 when he died."

Just then, Seamus yells out, "Good God, here's a fella that got to be 145!"

"What was his name?" asks Paddy.

Seamus stumbles around a bit, awkwardly lights a match to see what else is written on the stone marker, and exclaims, "Miles, from Dublin.

Brenda O'Malley is home making dinner, as usual, when Tim Finnegan arrives at her door.

"Brenda, may I come in?" he asks. "I've somethin' to tell ya." "Of course you can come in, you're always welcome, Tim. But where's my husband?"

"That's what I'm here to be tellin' ya, Brenda. There was an accident down at the Guinness brewery..."

"Oh, God no!" cries Brenda. "Please don't tell me..."
"I must, Brenda. Your husband Seamus is dead and gone. I'm sorry."
Finally, she looked up at Tim. "How did it happen, Tim?" "It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat of Guinness Stout and drowned." "Oh my dear Jesus! But you must tell me true, Tim. Did he at least go quickly?"

"Well, no Brenda... no. Fact is, he got out three times to pee."

Mary Clancy goes up to Father O'Grady's after his Sunday morning service, and she's in tears.

He says, "So what's bothering you, Mary my dear?" She says, "Oh, Father, I've got terrible news. My husband passed away last night."

The priest says, "Oh, Mary, that's terrible. Tell me, did he have any last requests?"

She says, "That he did, Father..."
The priest says, "What did he ask, Mary?"
She says, "He said, 'Please Mary, put down that damn gun...'"