St. Patrick's Day shenanigans in the Alley

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By Dick Frank

In 1737, Irish immigrants began observing St. Patrick’s Day in Boston and held the first parade in New York City in 1766. Now, the tradition continues with almost everybody wearing green, being honorary Irish, and eating corned beef and cabbage.

In honor of St. Patrick’s Day, on this coming Monday, Pun Alley is decked out in green and will have some Irish fun.

Taken to the Cleaners

Patrick O’Reilly was lucky. Since the day he had found a four-leaf clover, everything good seemed to come his way.

He had married a wonderful woman and later, was the father of beautiful twins. At work he had been promoted and had received a substantial raise.

Patty, certain his good fortune was due to his four-leaf clover, always carried his lucky charm in his suit pocket. One morning he searched and could not find the clover.

He recalled it was in his suit that he had left at the cleaners. When he picked it up, the clover was still in one piece but tattered from the dry cleaning.

After that Patty’s fortunes changed. The twins developed measles when his boss and the boss’s wife visited for dinner.

He had a flat tire on his way to an important meeting and lost his job. So many bad things happened to him he visited the parish priest to ask for advice.

“This certainly was to be expected,” the priest said. “You should have known. One should never press one’s luck.”

Life’s a Road

Three Irishmen, Paddy, Sean, and Shamus, having left the pub a wee late one night, were on the way past the old graveyard. “Come have a look over here,” said Paddy, “it’s Michael O’Grady’s grave; God bless his soul. He lived to the ripe old age of 87. Good blood, those O’Grady’s.”

“That’s nothing,” said Sean. “Here’s one named Patrick O’Toole, it says here that he was 95 when he died. Aye, those O’Tooles are a hardy bunch, they are.”

Just then, Shamus yelled out, “Forget him, on this marker out by the street there’s a fella that lived to be 155 years old!”

“What was his name?” asked Paddy.

Shamus stumbled around a bit and lit a match to see the marker and exclaimed, “Miles to Dublin!”

Leprechaun Tales

The doctor was puzzled, “I’m very sorry but I can’t diagnose your trouble, Mahoney. I think it must be drink.”

“Don’t worry about it Dr. Kelley, I’ll come back when you’re sober.”

Our town had its annual St. Patrick’s Day parade with a marching rock-and-roll band. Actually it wasn’t really rock and roll. It was sham rock.

“I married an Irishman on St. Patrick’s Day.”

“Oh, really?”

“No, O’Reilly!”

On St. Patrick’s Day everyone is jealous of the Irish; they’re green with envy.

Have you heard about the Irish boomerang? It doesn’t come back; it just sings songs about how much it wants to.

An Irishman who keeps bouncing off walls is named Rick O’Shea.

His wife had been killed in an accident and the police were questioning Finnegan. “Did she say anything before she died?” asked the sergeant.

“She spoke without interruption for about 40 years,” said the Irishman.

Not so Great Escape

During World War II the captured Allied agents of Stalag 15 were attempting a prison break. On this night, Major O’Roarke and Lieutenant Flanagan were chosen to cut their way through the bars of the east gate.

They were hard at work when floodlights caught them in the act. As the German officer led them away, O’Roarke said, “We were so careful. How did you ever catch us?”

The German replied, “It’s simple, I can always tell when Irish spies are filing.”

Stroke of Genius

The mistress of a big English house called her Irish maid and pointed out the dust still on top of the piano. “Mary,” she said, “I could write my name in this dust.”

Mary responded, “Ain’t education a grand thing, ma’am!”

Dust off your jokes and puns, and e-mail to dickjfrank@yahoo.com, or snail mail to the Citizen. Thanks go to Marianne Anderson of Oak Run who sent some of these Irish stories to me a long time ago. Your stories may not show up in Pun Alley immediately, we tell no joke before its time.