PADDY TO HIS PIG
Reading edition
Och! Piggy dear, an' did ye hear The thraitors what they say? The rint is due, an' oh! 'tis you, Me darlin', that's to pay. So you, whose squale is music rale To me—the rascals hint That you must doi, an' plaise, for whoy?— The landlord wants his rint! But no, me jew'l! Oi'm not so cru'l, To kill an' murther dead The chum that's ate out ov me plate, An' shared the fam'ly bed. Oi would be loike a fool to stroike A frind to plaise a foe— If one must doi, why then, says Oi, The landlord, he must go.
An Irish National School-Lesson.—
Master. Spell "Patriotism."
Scholar. P-a-t, "Pat;" r-i-o-t, "riot;" i-s-m "ism."
Master. Now spake it together.
Scholar. Pat-riot-ism.
Master. Ah, then, it's the good boy you are entirely.
Irishman (who has run up a score at the inn, to firemen). "Play on the slate, bhoys!"
An Irish Difficulty.—Pat ("the morning after," reading prescription). "'Dissolve wan of the powdhers in half a tumbler of wather, an' th' other powdher in another half tumbler of wather. Mix, an' dhrink whoile efferveshin'.' What'll Oi do? Whoy the div'l didn't he say which Oi was to mix furrst?"
The Colonel. "Mr. Moriarty, I received this morning a most offensive anonymous letter, and, from certain indications, I am compelled reluctantly to ask you if you know anything about it."
Moriarty. "An anonymous letter? Whoy, Oi'd scorn to put my name to such a thing."
QUITE ANOTHER THING
Paddy (the loser). "Arrah g'long! I said I'd lay you foive to wan, but I wasn't goin' to bet my ha'f-crown agin your tath'rin little sixpence!"
[Exeunt fighting.
Making things pleasant.—Irishman (to English Sportsman). "Is it throuts? Be jabers, the watther's stiff wid 'em!!!"
["Regardless of strict truth, in his love of hyperbole and generous desire to please," as our friend recorded in his diary after a blank day.
A BREATH FROM THE FAR WEST
"Can I go a yard nearer on my side, as I've lost the sight of me one eye intirely?"
"Pat" Junior (in answer to question by Saxon Tourist). "There's foive of us, yer honour, an' the baby."
Saxon. "And are you the eldest?"
"Pat" Junior. "I am, yer honour—at prisent!!"
Irish Groom. "Will ye send up two sacks of oats an' a bundle av hay."
Voice from Telephone. "Who for?"
Irish Groom. "The harse, av coorse, ye fool!"
INS AND OUTS
Irish Innkeeper (to "Boots," &c.)."H'where's Biddee? Out, is she? Bad luck to the hussy! She'll go out twinty toimes for wonce she'll come in!"
"IRISH"
Polite Young Man. "Perhaps you feel a draught, madam?"
Old Lady. "No, sir, not this side. I'm always careful to sit with my back facing the engine!"
WOKE UP
"'Tis the voice of the sluggard, I heard him complain."—Watts.
Boots. "Eight o'clock, surr!"
Voice (from the deeps). "Why didn't ye tell me that before, confound you!"