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Where were you going when I saw you coming back?

I ran after you, but when I caught up to you you'd gone.

I tapped you on the shoulder, but when you turned round it was neither of us!

'What a filthy place,' said Murphy. 'It's alive with dead rats.'

'Not only that,' added his brother. 'There's holes a foot high!'

'I don't mind dying,' said Mick McGee. 'It's just that you feel so stiff the day after!'

'What's wrong with Murphy?' asked Father Green. 'I don't know, Father. Yesterday he swallowed a spoon and he hasn't stirred since,' said Mrs Murphy.

'How far is it to the next village?' asked the American tourist.

'It's about seven miles,' guessed the farmer. 'But it's only five if you run!'

The man in the next bed to Rafferty had a kidney removed. The next day, for lunch, they were served kidney soup.

'My God,' said he, 'they waste nothing here!'

'I'm the unluckiest person in the whole world,' moaned Betty McGrath. 'I bought a non-stick pan and can't get the label off.'

'She's a horrible woman,' said Murphy about his mother-in-law. 'She makes her own yoghurt. She puts a pint of milk on the table and stares at it!'

'That's my lot,' said Paddy leaving the dentist's. 'I've just had all my teeth out - never again!'

'I'd like some nails,' Mick requested of the DIY man. 'How long would you like them?' asked the man. 'Forever, if that's all right with you,' said Mick.

'God, the man is thin,' said Molly Flynn. 'He's like a set of teeth in a suit! If a door opens and no one comes in - that's him!'

'The baby is just like his father,' said Mary Quinn. 'But at least he's got his health!'

The Casey twins were flying over the Sahara Desert when one said to the other:

'My God, look at all that sand. I wonder what they're going to build when the cement arrives?'

'What a miserable party,' said Murphy. The whiskey flowed like glue!'

'My husband was the hardest worker in Dublin,' said widow Clancy. 'He was the only docker with a straight hook!'

'What would you be if you weren't Irish?' asked the barman.

'Ashamed! 'said Murphy.

'I was going to give him a nasty look but he already had one!'

Mary Kelly made a phone call to the council complaining:

'Our toilet seat is broken in half, and is now in three pieces. Can you tell me where I stand?'

Murphy was even funnier in writing to the council:

'I am writing on behalf of my sink which is running away from the wall!'

An Irish proposal: 'Would you like to be buried with my people?'

'Excuse me,' said Mrs McCoy to the butcher. 'But there's a sausage on the floor.'

'Don't worry,' said he, 'I've got me foot on it!'

Two ladies on a bus and one said: 'And do you know he put his hand right up my skirt.'

And the other replied: 'Not the green one with the floral pattern?'

'I couldn't believe Dublin, great city, but every Tom, Dick and Harry is called Pat!!'

'What's that you're taking, Mick?' asked Jim McGee. ' Tis the secret of a good night out,' replied Mick. 'It's a mixture of Benzedrine and Valium. It makes you feel frisky but if you don't click who cares!'

Things that only the illogical Irish would say:

'You three are a right pair if ever I saw one!'

'How come every time you ring a wrong number it's never engaged?'

'Spread out in a bunch.

'Hello, Mary, how's your new false teeth?' asked Bridget.

I'm leaving them out till I get used to them!' said Mary.

'You see my real shoe size is four,' said Vera. 'But I'm wearing sevens coss fours hurt!'

As Mrs McGinty entered the house she looked up to see a ceiling 15 feet high.

'Begod,' she said to husband Seamus, 'when you said you were going to knock two rooms into one I didn't think you meant upwards!!'

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May your glass be ever full.
May the roof over your head be always strong.
And may you be in heaven
half an hour before the devil knows you're dead.

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.

Here's to you and yours
And to mine and ours.
And if mine and ours
Ever come across to you and yours,
I hope you and yours will do
As much for mine and ours
As mine and ours have done
For you and yours!

Health and life to you;
The mate of your choice to you;
Land without rent to you,
And death in Eirinn.

Here's a toast to your enemies' enemies!

When we drink, we get drunk.
When we get drunk, we fall asleep.
When we fall asleep, we commit no sin.
When we commit no sin, we go to heaven.
So, let's all get drunk, and go to heaven!

Here's to a long life and a merry one.
A quick death and an easy one.
A pretty girl and an honest one.
A cold beer—and another one!

Here's to our wives and girlfriends:
May they never meet!

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May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face.
And rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.

May you live as long as you want,
And never want as long as you live.

Always remember to forget
The things that made you sad.
But never forget to remember
The things that made you glad.

Always remember to forget
The friends that proved untrue.
But never forget to remember
Those that have stuck by you.

Always remember to forget
The troubles that passed away.
But never forget to remember
The blessings that come each day.

May the saddest day of your future be no worse
Than the happiest day of your past.

May the roof above us never fall in.
And may the friends gathered below it never fall out.

May you have warm words on a cold evening,
A full moon on a dark night,
And the road downhill all the way to your door.

May there be a generation of children
On the children of your children.

May you live to be a hundred years,
With one extra year to repent!

May the Lord keep you in His hand
And never close His fist too tight.

May your neighbors respect you,
Trouble neglect you,
The angels protect you,
And heaven accept you.

May the Irish hills caress you.
May her lakes and rivers bless you.
May the luck of the Irish enfold you.
May the blessings of Saint Patrick behold you.

May your pockets be heavy and your heart be light,
May good luck pursue you each morning and night.

Walls for the wind,
And a roof for the rain,
And drinks beside the fire -
Laughter to cheer you
And those you love near you,
And all that your heart may desire!

May God be with you and bless you,
May you see your children's children,
May you be poor in misfortune, rich in blessings.
May you know nothing but happiness
From this day forward.

May God grant you many years to live,
For sure He must be knowing
The earth has angels all too few
And heaven is overflowing.

May peace and plenty be the first
To lift the latch to your door,
And happiness be guided to your home
By the candle of Christmas.

May you always have work for your hands to do.
May your pockets hold always a coin or two.
May the sun shine bright on your windowpane.
May the rainbow be certain to follow each rain.
May the hand of a friend always be near you.
And may God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.

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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 the enemies of Ireland never meet a friend.

May the curse of Mary Malone and her nine blind illegitimate children chase you so far over the hills of Damnation that the Lord himself can't find you with a telescope.

May you melt off the earth like snow off the ditch.

May his pipe never smoke, may his teapot be broke
And to add to the joke, may his kettle ne’er boil,
May he keep to the bed till the hour that he’s dead,
May he always be fed on hogwash and boiled oil,
May he swell with the gout, may his grinders fall out,
May he roll howl and shout with the horrid toothache,
May the temples wear horns, and the toes many corns,
Of the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty’s drake.

May his spade never dig may his sow never pig
May each hair on his wig be well thrashed with a flail
May his door have no latch, may his house have no thatch,
May his turkey not hatch, may the rats eat his meat
May every old fairy, from Cork to Dunleary,
Dip him snug and airy in river or lake,
Where the eel and the trout may feed on the snout
Of the monster that murdered Neill Falheerty’s drake

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