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Read Ebook: Wehman Bros.' Irish Yarns Wit and Humor No. 2 by Anonymous
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Ebook has 524 lines and 17219 words, and 11 pages
WEHMAN BROS.'
IRISH YARNS
WIT AND HUMOR
No. 2
PUBLISHED BY WEHMAN BROS. NEW YORK
WEHMAN BROS.' BOOK ON
HOW TO BECOME AN American Citizen
PRICE 15 CENTS.
? Persons in Foreign Countries must remit by POST OFFICE MONEY ORDER.
? FOREIGN COIN, STAMPS, OR POSTAL NOTES NOT ACCEPTED.
Address all orders to WEHMAN BROS., 158 Park Row, New York.
IRISH YARNS
No. 2
ON JUDGMENT DAY.
A certain priest and a parishioner were visiting one night and judgment day was mentioned.
"What d'ye mean, 'judgment' day?" the man inquired.
"Judgment day," replied the priest, "is the day when all who have died are brought up for judgment, when their sins are judged and the verdict--judgment--is pronounced."
"Aha," exclaimed the man. "And will the A. P. A.'s be there?"
"Yes, the A. P. A.'s will be there."
"Will the Ancient Order of Hibernians be there?"
"They certainly will! Why?"
"Well, I'm thinking there'll be mighty little 'judging' done the first few hours, thin!"
Pat--"That McGinty is a fine fellow."
Mick--"Is he?"
Pat--"He is, indeed. Great friend of mine. Did you notice how heartily he shook hands with me?"
Mick--"I did."
Pat--"Great friend of mine. He wasn't satisfied with shaking one hand, but he grabbed hold of both."
Mick--"I suppose he thought his watch and chain would be safer that way."
EASY FOR PADDY.
At a political meeting an Irishman watched closely the trombone player in the band. Presently the man laid down his instrument and went out for a beer. Paddy investigated, and promptly pulled the horn to pieces. The player returned. "Who's meddled mit my drombone?" he roared. "Oi did," said Paddy. "Here ye've been for two hours tryin' to pull it apart, an' Oi did it in wan minute!"
Mike--"What a red nose that Sweeney has."
"Whist, man; he spint a barrel of money to get it to the pink of perfection."
It was in the wilds of Tipperary, and the local and long-suffering landlord had been ill-advised enough to ask for a bit of rent on account--the same being some few years overdue. Roused to fury at this unlooked-for and, in their eyes, outrageous demand, Mike and Pat decided to "wait for" the base and greedy tyrant. And they did--behind a hedge with a shot-gun. An hour passed. Their feet and their fingers were numbed with the cold, and, worse than that, the dhrop or half-bottle of the crathur was gone.
Said Pat to Mike, in a hoarse whisper: "Shure, an' I hope nothing can have happened to the onfortunate gintleman!"
Not long ago a young Irishman was seeking work in western Illinois, and among those to whom he applied was a farmer near Cairo.
The farmer was attracted by the Celt's frank, cheery manner, and, while he was not in need of help, he asked, after a pause:
"Can you cradle?"
"Cradle!" repeated the Irishman. "Sure, I can! But, sir," he added persuasively, "couldn't ye give me a job out of dures?"
Mrs. Murphy--"Oi hear yer brother-in-law, Pat Keegan, is pretty bad off."
Mrs. Casey--"Shure, he's good for a year yit."
Mrs. Murphy--"As long as that?"
Mrs. Casey--"Yes; he's had four different doctors, and each one uv thim gave him three months to live."
A Dundee shopkeeper asked an Irishman who was standing at a street corner if he wanted a job.
"Yes, sor," replied the Irishman.
"Well, now, what would you take to clear the snow away from my premises?"
"A shovel, sor!" was the sharp reply of the Irishman.
He got the job.
A SAVING, ANYWAY.
O'Brien--"So the landlord lowered the rint for yez. He'll save money at that."
Casey--"How so?"
O'Brien--"Shure, it's less he'll be losin' when ye don't pay it."
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