Pat walked into the Post Office. After getting into the telephone box he
called a wrong number. As there was no such number the switch attendant
did not answer him. Pat shouted again, but received no answer.
The lady of the Post Office opened the door and told him to shout a
little louder, which he did, but still no answer.
Again she said he would require to speak louder.
Pat got angry at this, and, turning to the lady, said:
“Begorra, if I could shout any louder I wouldn’t use your bloomin’ ould
telephone at all!”
* * * * *
Pat had just arrived from Ireland when Mike, who had been in America for
some years, spied him.
“Faith, Pat!” exclaimed Mike, “what are you doing over here?”
“I’ve come over,” answered Pat, “to try if I can make an honest living.”
“Begorra, Mike, me boy, that’s dead aisy over here, for it’s dommed
little competition you’ll have in this country.”
* * * * *
In the court-house an Irishman stood charged with stealing a watch from
a fellow citizen. He stoutly denied the impeachment, and brought a
counter-accusation against his accuser for assault and battery committed
with a frying-pan. The judge was inclined to take a common sense view
of the case, and regarding the prisoner, said, “Why did you allow the
prosecutor, who is a smaller man than yourself, to assault you, without
resistance? Had you nothing in your hand to defend yourself with?”
“Bedad, your honor,” answered Pat, “I had his watch, but what was that
against a frying-pan?”
* * * * *
Pat (reading notice on bank door)—“This bank will reopen after the
meeting of the assignees.” “Begob, it will be a long time before their
assandknees meet.”
* * * * *
Clancy:—Dugan ate something that poisoned him.
Dick:—Croquette?
Clancy:—Not yit begorra, but he’s very sick.
* * * * *
For three solid hours the captain had been lecturing his men on “the
duties of a soldier,” and he thought it was time to see how much they had
understood of his discourse.
Casting his eyes round the room, he fixed on Private Murphy as his first
victim.
“Private Murphy,” he asked, “why should a soldier be ready to die for his
country?”
Private Murphy scratched his head for a moment and then a smile of
enlightenment crossed his face.
“Sure, Captain,” he said, pleasantly, “you’re quite right. Why should he?”
* * * * *
Maggie: “What’s wrong with the car? It squeaks dreadfully.”
Patty: “Shure and it can’t be helped; there’s pig-iron in the axles.”
* * * * *
Mistress: “Mary, were you entertaining a man in the kitchen last night?”
Mary: “That’s for him to say, mum. I was doin’ the best I could with the
materials I could find.”
* * * * *
Pat Rooney was a new arrival on the job. Having gone to the top of the
building and failed to return, the foreman shouted up:
“Come on, Pat, what’s keeping ye?”
“Sure,” said Pat, “I can’t find my way down.”
“Well, come down the way ye went up,” shouted the foreman.
“Faith, an’ I won’t,” says Pat, “for I came up head first.”
* * * * *
It was during the dry spell a few months ago, and a shower having come
up, Dr. Blank remarked to his gardener, “This rain will do a lot of good,
Patrick.”
“Ye may well say that, sorr,” returned Pat. “Shure an hour of it now will
do more good in five minutes than a month of it would do in a week at any
other time.”
* * * * *