I have decided to add the category of limericks to our Irish drinking stories, blessings and proverbs. Ireland does not have a corner on the limerick market, but Ireland has certainly contributed its share in that area. I have always enjoyed limericks, so I hope that you, too, will like the additional fun.
As Father Fitzgerald was walking down the street in Dublin, he spied across the way young Michael Donovan, a small boy living in his parish. Michael was at the door of a home across the street attempting to push the doorbell.
But young Michael is on the short side and the doorbell, which is a bit on the high side, was simply too high for him to reach no matter how hard he stretched. Father watched young Michael stretch and strain toward the bell for a short time, but the bell drew no closer to the small child‘s fingers.
Father Fitzgerald strode quickly across the street ending up directly behind Michael standing at the door. While gently placing his hand on the small child’s shoulder, the good man of God bent lower and gave the doorbell a firm, hard ring.
Then, squatting down lower to young Michael’s height, Father Fitzgerald smiled knowingly and asked, “And now what, my young man?”
“Now, Fadder?” replied Michael grinning, “Now we run!”
Limericks
Epitaph on a tombstone somewhere in Pennsylvania:
Here lies the body
of Jonathan Blake,
Stepped on the gas
instead of the brake.
Another epitaph in a cemetery in Thurmont, Maryland:
Here lies an Atheist
All dressed up
And no place to go.
A true Irishman considers a bore to be someone who constantly interrupts.
A true Irishman considers anyone who won’t come around to his point of view to be hopelessly stubborn.
(Aha! Now I know where I got that trait!)
A true Irishman has so much respect for the truth that he uses it only in emergencies.
The three elderly Gallagher sisters have never married, they go everywhere together and they are all hard of hearing. One windy Spring day as they are walking down the streets of Dublin…
Mary Elizabeth says, “Whew, it is sure windy today.”
Molly replies, “No, no. Today is Thursday.”
Kathleen says, “So am I. Let’s find a bar!
Whenever I dream,
It seems I dream
Of Erin’s rolling hills
Of all its lovely, shimmery lakes
And little babbling rills.
I hear a colleen’s lilting laugh
Across a meadow fair.
And in my dreams
Its almost seems
To me that I am there
O, Ireland! O, Ireland!
We’re Never far apart
For you and all your beauty
Fill my mind and touch my heart.
May the love and protection
Saint Patrick can give
Be yours in abundance
As long as you live.
‘Twas late one Saturday night, when the local Garda (police officer) spied Timothy O’Carroll driving in quite a meandering fashion along the streets of County Cork. After pulling him over, the policeman asked O’Carroll if he had been drinking that night.
“Who told on me?” asked Timothy. “Well, so I have, occifer. So I have,” continued the thoroughly drunk O’Carroll. “It’s Saturday night, you know. Me and me lads, we made a stop by the pub, but I only had six or seven pints, that’s all.”
“But then they had somethin’ called ‘Happy Hour’ during which they served these delicious margaritos, or margaritas? Anyway they are quite good. I had four…no five of those. Then I had promised to drive O’Hara, me friend, home, and he invited me in. Well, I had to go in for a couple pints of Guinness. I really couldn’t be rude, now occifer, Could I? Of course, on the way home I stopped to get another pint for later…”
At that point Timothy began fumbling around inside his coat and suddenly lifted up a bottle of whiskey for the Garda to inspect.
The policeman gave a deep sigh, saying “Sir, you will need to step out of the vehicle to take a breathalyzer.”
Indignantly, O’Carroll replied, “Why? Don’t you believe me?”
Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.
Some days you’re the dog, other days the hydrant.
Another Limerick
There once was an old man of Lyme
Who married three wives at a time.
When asked, “Why a third?”
He replied, “One’s absurd!
And bigamy, sir, is a crime.”
Brian O’Connell drives a double-decker bus through the streets of Dublin. One day a very drunk Timothy Fogarty climbed aboard Brian’s bus taking a seat on the bottom deck near Brian. As you may or may not know, Brian is required not to allow any drunks onto his bus, but today he felt rather light-hearted so he decided to allow the inebriated Fogarty remain on board.
As is his wont when he has had a few Timothy began talking a mean streak, which induced Brian to suggest that Timothy should sit on the upper deck.
“The air up there is clean and fresh, and you will get a much improved view,” encouraged Brian.
Fogarty agreed and stumbled his way up top. However, he returned in only a few minutes.
“What’s wrong?” Brian asked. “Didn’t you like it better up there?”
Timothy replied, “It’s okay. But it’s too dangerous.”
“Too dangerous?” queried Brian. “How is that?”
“There’s no driver,” answered Fogarty.
At the very next stop two more drunks climbed on board the bus. The first drunk was Bill O‘Brien and the second was Tommy Lynch. Bill asked driver O‘Connell, “Will this bus take me to 35th Avenue?”
“No, it won’t,” answered Brian.
After a short pause, Tommy Lynch asked, “What about me?”
For our video today we present the voice of Orla Fallon of Celtic Woman singing “Isle of Inisfree:”
McCafferty Himself 
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