Happy St Paddy's Day

A young Irish girl goes into her priest on Saturday morning for confession.
"Father, forgive me for I have Thinned."
"You've Thinned?"
"Yes, I went out with me boyfriend Friday night. He held me hand twice, kissed me three times, and made love to me two times."
"Daughter! I want you to go straight home, squeeze seven lemons into a glass, and drink it straight down."
"Will that wash away me Thin?"
"No, but it will get the silly smile off your face."

Wild Colonial Boy

You've heard this song in the movie The Quiet Man with John Wayne

There was a wild colonial boy. Jack Duggan was his name.
He was born and bred in Ireland In a town called Castlemane.
He was his father's only son; His mother's pride and joy.
And dearly did his parents love The wild colonial boy.

At the early age of sixteen years He left his native home,
And to Australia's sunny shores He was inclined to roam.
He robbed the wealthy squireen. All arms he did destroy.
A terror to Australia was the wild colonial boy.

One morning on the prairie, as Jack he rode along
A-listening to the mocking bird, a-singing a cheerful song
Up stepped a band of troopers: Kelly, Davis and Fitzroy
They all set out to capture him, the wild colonial boy

Surrender now, Jack Duggan, for you see we're three to one
Surrender in the King's high name, you are a plundering son
Jack drew two pistols from his belt, he proudly waved them high
I'll fight, but not surrender, said the wild colonial boy

He fired a shot at Kelly, which brought him to the ground
And turning round to Davis, he recieved a fatal wound
A bullet pierced his proud young heart, from the pistol of Fitzroy
And that was how they captured him, the wild colonial boy

Wild Rover

Heard at every rugby party

I've been a wild rover this many a year
And I've spent all my money on whisky and beer
But now I'm returning with gold in great store
And I never shall play the wild rover no more

No, nae never, no nae never no more
shall I play
The wild rover no never no more

There was Kitty and Betsy and Margaret and Sue
And three or four more that belonged to our crew
We'd sit up till midnight and make the place roar
I've been the wild boy but I'll be so no more

I dropped into a shanty I used to frequent
And I told the landlady my money was spent
I asked her for credit she answered me nay
Such a custom as yours I can get every day

Then I drew from my pocket ten sovereigns bright
And the landlady's eyes opened wide with delight
Said she I have whisky and wines of the best
And the words that I told you were only in jest

I'll go home to my parents confess what I've done
And I'll ask them to pardon their prodigal son
And if they will do so as often before
Then I never shall play the wild rover no more

Molly Malone

I once named my cat Molly Malone

In Dublin's Fair City
Where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheel'd her wheel barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!

Alive, alive o!, alive, alive o!
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!

She was a fishmonger
But sure 'twas no wonder
For so were her father and mother before
And they each wheel'd their barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!


She died of a fever
And no one could save her
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone
But her ghost wheels her barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!


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 'Isn't education a grand thing ma'm'.

When Irish Eyes Are Smiling

Written by Chauncey Olcott, Performed by Bing Crosby

When Irish eyes are smiling
Sure 'tis like the morn in Spring
In the lilt of Irish laughter
You can hear the angels sing

When Irish hearts are happy
All the world seems bright and gay
And when Irish eyes are smiling
Sure they steal your heart away

When Irish hearts are happy
All the world seems bright and gay
And when Irish eyes are smiling
Sure they steal your heart away.

My Wild Irish Rose

If you'll listen, I'll sing you a sweet little song,
Of a flower that's now drooped and dead,
Yet dearer to me, yes, than all of its mates,
Tho' each holds aloft its proud head.
'Twas given to me by a girl that I know,
Since we've met, faith, I've known no repose,
She is dearer by far than the world's brightest star,
And I call her my wild Irish Rose.

My wild Irish Rose,
The sweetest flow'r that grows,
You may search ev'rywhere,
But none can compare
With my wild Irish Rose.
My wild Irish Rose,
The dearest flow'r that grows,
And some day for my sake,
She may let me take
The bloom from my wild Irish Rose.

They may sing of their roses which, by other names,
Would smell just as sweetly, they say,
But I know that my Rose would never consent
To have that sweet name taken away.
Her glances are shy when e'er I pass by
The bower, where my true love grows;
And my one wish has been that some day I may win
The heart of my wild Irish Rose.

My wild Irish Rose,
The sweetest flow'r that grows,
You may search ev'rywhere,
But none can compare
With my wild Irish Rose.
My wild Irish Rose,
The dearest flow'r that grows,
And some day for my sake,
She may let me take
The bloom from my wild Irish Rose.

Q. What is Irish diplomacy?
A. It's the ability to tell a man to go to hell.
So that he will look forward to making the trip

Black Velvet Band

I love this song!
In a neat little town they call Belfast
Apprenticed to trade I was bound
And many an hour's sweet happiness
I spent in that neat little town.
Till bad misfortune came o'er me
That caused me to stray from the land
Far away from my friends and relations
To follow the black velvet band.

Her eyes they shone like the diamonds
You'd think she was queen of the land
And her hair hung over her shoulder
Tied up with a black velvet band.

As, I was out strolling one evening
Not meaning to go very far
I met with a ficklesum damsel
She was selling her trade in the bar.
When a watch she took from a customer
And slipped it right into my hand
Then the Law came and put me in prison
Bad luck to the black velvet band.

Next morning before judge and jury
For a trial I had to appear
And the judge, he said, "Me young fellow...
The case against you is quite clear
And seven long years is your sentence
You're going to Van Dieman's Land
Far away from your friends and relations
To follow the black velvet band."

So come all you jolly young fellows
I'd have you take warning by me
Whenever you're out on the liquor, me lads,
Beware of the pretty colleen.
She'll fill you with whiskey and porter
Til you're not able to stand
And the very next thing that you'll know, me lads,
You're landed in Van Dieman's Land.

Danny Boy

Oh Danny boy, the pipes,
the pipes are calling
From glen to glen,
and down the mountain side

The summer's gone,
and all the flowers are falling
'Tis you, 'tis you
must go and I must bide

But come ye back
when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed
and white with snow

And I'll be here
in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy,
I love you so

But if you come,
and all the flowers are falling
And I am dead,
as dead I may well be

You'll come and find
the place where I am lying
And kneel and say
an "Ave" there for me

And I will hear,
though soft your tread above me
And o'er my grave
will warmer sweeter be

And you will bend
and tell me that you love me
And I will sleep
in peace until you come to me

But if I live
and should you die for Ireland
Let not your dying thoughts
be just of me

But say a prayer to God
for our dearest Island
I know He'll hear
and help to set her free

And I will take your pike
and place my dearest
And strike a blow,
though weak the blow may be

Twill help the cause
to which your heart was nearest
Oh Danny Boy, Oh, Danny boy
I love you so.

Irish Toasts

May those who love us love us.
And those that don't love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn't turn their hearts,
May he turn their ankles,
So we'll know them by their limping.

May you live to be a hundred
And may I live to sing at your wake!

Here's to me, and here's to you,
And here's to love and laughter-
I'll be true as long as you,
And not one moment after.

Only Irish Coffee provides in a single glass all four essential food groups: alcohol, caffeine, sugar, and fat.

May you live to be a hundred years, with one extra year to repent.

Some may say the glass is half empty,
Some may say the glass is half full,
But the Irish will forever say
"Are you gonna drink that?"

Here's to the four hinges of society.
May you fight, steal, lie and drink.
When you fight, may you fight for your country.
When you steal, may you steal away from bad company.
When you lie, may you lie at the side of your sweetheart.
And when you drink, may you drink with me.

May you have food and raiment,
A soft pillow for your head,
May you be forty years in heaven
Before the devil knows you're dead.

The Rose of Tralee

The pale moon was rising above the green mountain
The sun was declining beneath the blue sea
When I strayed with my love to the pure crystal fountain
That stands in beautiful vale of Tralee.
She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer
Yet, 'twas not her beauty alone that won me
Oh no! 'Twas the the truth in her eye ever beaming
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.

The cool shades of evening their mantle were spreading
And Mary all smiling was listening to me
The moon through the valley her pale rays was shedding
When I won the heart of the Rose of Tralee.
Though lovely and fair as the rose of the summer
Yet, 'twas not her beauty alone that won me
Oh no! 'Twas the the truth in her eye ever beaming
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.


"What did I have?" said the fine old woman
"What did I have?" this proud old woman did say
"I had four green fields, each one was a jewel
But strangers came and tried to take them from me
I had fine strong sons, they fought to save my jewels
They fought and died, and that was my grief" said she

"Long time ago" said the fine old woman
"Long time ago" this proud old woman did say
"There was war and death, plundering and pillage
My children starved by mountain valley and sea
And their wailing cries, they shook the very heavens
My four green fields ran red with their blood" said she

"What have I now?" said the fine old woman
"What have I now?" this proud old woman did say
"I have four green fields, one of them's in bondage
In stranger's hands, that tried to take it from me
But my sons have sons, as brave as were their fathers
My fourth green field will bloom once again" said she


When boyhood's fire was in my blood
I read of ancient freemen,
For Greece and Rome who bravely stood,
Three hundred men and three men;
And then I prayed I yet might see
Our fetters rent in twain,
And Ireland. long a province, be
A Nation once again!

A nation once again,
A nation once again,
And Ireland, long a province, be
A Nation once again!

And from that time, through wildest woe,
That hope has shown a far light,
Nor could love's brightest summer glow
Outshine that solemn starlight;
It seemed to watch above my head
In forum, field and fame,
Its angel voice sang round my bed,
A Nation once again.


It whisper'd too, that freedom's ark,
And service high and holy,
Would be profaned by feeling dark
And passions vain or lowly;
For, Freedom comes from God's right hand,
And needs a godly train;
And righteous men must make our land
A nation once again!


Boys From County Armagh

There's one fair county in Ireland
With memory so glorious and grand
Where nature has lavished her bounty
On the orchard of Erins great land
I love its cathedral city
Once founded by Patrick so true
And there in the heart of it's bosom
Are the ashes of Brian Boru

It's my own Irish home far across the foam
And tho' I've often left it in foreign lands to roam
No matter where I wander
Through cities near and far
My heart's at home in old Ireland
In the county of Armagh

I've travelled the heart of this county
Through Newtown, Forkhill, Crossmaglen
Around the gap of Mount Norris
And home by Blackwater again
Where the girls are so gay and so hearty
None fairer in Erin Go Bragh
Ah, where are the boys that can court them
Like the boys from the county Armagh


The New Priest

A new priest at his first mass was so nervous he couldn't stand still. He asked Father Murphy for some advice. Father Murphy replied, "When I'm worried about gettin' nervous on the pulpit, I take a wee bit o' whiskey. Just to calm my nerves." So the next Sunday he took the older priest's advice. Before the mass, he got nervous and took a drink. He then proceeded to talk up a storm. Upon return to his office after mass, he found the following note on his door:

1. A few sips of whiskey. Not the whole bottle.

2. There are 10 commandments, not 12.

3. There are 12 disciples, not 10.

4. Jesus was consecrated, not constipated.

5. Jacob wagered his donkey, he did not bet his ass.

6. We do not refer to Jesus Christ as the late J.C.

7. The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are not referred to as Senior, Junior, and the Spook.

8. David slew Goliath, he did not kick the shit out of him.

9. When David was hit by a rock and knocked off his donkey, don't say "He was stoned off his ass."

10. We do not refer to the cross as the Big T!

11. When Jesus broke the bread at the Last Supper he said, "Take this and eat it, for it is my body"; he did not say, Eat me."

12. The Virgin Mary is not referred to as the, "Mary with the Cherry".

13. The recommended grace before a meal is not: "Rub-A-dub-dub, thanks for the grub, yea God"

14. Next Sunday there will be a taffy-pulling contest at St. Patrick's, not a patrick-pulling contest at St. Taffy's.


recorded long ago by Red Nichols and the Natural Seven RG
chorus: Cigarettes, whiskey and wild wild women
They'll drive you crazy, they'll drive you insane;
Cigarettes, whiskey and wild wild women
They'll drive you crazy, they'll drive you insane;

Once I was happy and had a good wife
I had enough money to last me for life
Then I met with a gal and we went on a spree
She taught me smokin' and drinkin' whiskee

Cigarettes are a blight on the whole human race
A man is a monley with one in his face;
Take warning dear friend, take warning dear brother
A fire's on one end, a fools on the t'other.

And now good people, I'm broken with faith
The lines on my face make a well written page
I'm weavin' this story -- how sadly but true
On women and whiskey and what they can do

Wild the cross at the head of my grave
For women and whiskey here lies a poor slave.
Take warnin' poor stranger, take warnin' dear friend
In wide clear letters this tale of my end.

"Why do you Irish always answer a question with a question?" asked President Franklin D. Roosevelt. "Do we now?" came New York Mayor Al Smith's reply.


In sweet Lim'rick Town, they say,
Lived a chap named Patrick John MoIIoy.
Once he sailed to U.S.A.
His luck in foreign parts he thought he'd try.
Now he's made his name, and is a wealthy man,
He put a bit away for a rainy day;
So if you gaze upon
The house of Patrick John,
You'll find a notice that goes on to say:

If you're Irish come into the parlour,
There's a welcome there for you;
If your name is Timothy or Pat,
So long as you come from Ireland,
There's a welcome on the mat,
If You come from the Mountains of Mourne,
Or Killarney's lakes so blue,
We'll sing you a song and we'll make a fuss,
Whoever you are you are one of us,
If you're Irish, this is the place for you!

Patrick loved the girl he wed,
But he could not stand his Ma-n-aw,
Once with joy he turned quite red,
When she got into trouble thro' her jaw.
Six police they had to take her to the Court,
She was informed a month she would have to do,
So Patrick quickly wrote
Up to the Judge a note
Explaining, "Sir, I'm much obliged to you!"

Mistress Murphy gave a party just about a week ago,
Everything was plentiful, the Murphys, they're not slow.
They treated us like gentlemen; we tried to act the same
And only for what happened, well it was an awful shame.
Wkhen Mrs. Murphy dished the chowder out she fainted on the spot;
She found a pair of overalls at the bottom of the pot.
Tim Nolan he got ripping mad, his eyes were bulging out,
He jumped upon the piano and loudly he did shout.

cho: "Who threw the overalls in Mistress Murphy's chowder?"
Nobody spoke so he shouted all the louder.
It's an Irish trick that's true, but I can lick the Mick that threw
The overalls in Mistress Murphy's chowder.

They dragged the pants from out the soup and laid them on the floor;
Each man swore upon his life, he'd ne'er seen them before.
They were plastered up with mortar and were worn out at the knee,
They had their many ups and downs as we could plainly see.
And when Mrs. Murphy she came-to she 'gan to cry and pout,
She had them in the wash that day and forgot to take them out.
Tim Nolan, he excused himself for what he said that night,
So we put music to the words and sang with all our might.