Irish Humor

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Ohg Rea Tone is all or nothing. He is educated and opinionated, more clever than smart, sarcastic and forthright. He writes intuitively - often disregarding rules of composition. Comment on his posts - he will likely respond with characteristic humor or genuine empathy. He is the real-deal.

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Irish Humor

One night, Mrs McMillen answers the door to see her husbands best friend, Paddy, standing on the doorstep.

“Hello Paddy, but where is my husband? He went with you to the beer factory”

Paddy shook his head. “Ah Mrs McMillen, there was a terrible accident at the beer factory, your husband fell into a vat of Guinness stout and drowned”

Mrs McMillen starts crying. “Oh don’t tell me that, did he at least go quickly?”

Paddy shakes his head. “Not really – he got out 3 times to pee!”


“There once was a lass from Madrass.
She had a magnificent ass,
Not rosy and pink as many might think,
But had gray hair, long ears and ate grass!


An Irishman was flustered not being able to find a parking space in a large mall’s parking lot. “Lord” he prayed. I can’t stand this. If you open up a space for me, I swear I’ll give up drinking me whiskey and I promise to go to church every Sunday”.

Suddenly, the clouds parted and the sun shone on an empty parking spot. Without hesitation the man stated: “Never mind, I found one”.


Gallagher opened up the morning newspaper and was dumbfounded when he read in the obituaries that he had died. He quickly phoned his best friend, Finney.

“Did you see the paper?” said Gallagher. “They said I died.”

“Yes, I saw it.” replied Finney. “Where are ye calling from?”


Q. How do you get an Irishman on the roof?

A. Tell him the drinks are on the house.


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

Shamrocks, limericks & green things abound
Leprechauns seem to come out of the ground
But cabbage and beef?
Good grief! My belief…
They drink beer to wash it all down.


As soon as she had finished parochial school, a bright young girl named Lena shook the dust of Ireland off her shoes and made her way to New York where before long, she became a successful performer in show business.

Eventually she returned to her home town for a visit and on a Saturday night went to confession in the church which she had always attended as a child. In the confessional Father Sullivan recognized her and began asking her about her work. She explained that she was an acrobatic dancer, and he wanted to know what that meant.

She said she would be happy to show him the kind of thing she did on stage.

She stepped out of the confessional and within sight of Father Sullivan, she went into a series of cartwheels, leaping splits, handsprings and backflips. Kneeling near the confessional, waiting their turn, were two middle-aged ladies. They witnessed Lena’s acrobatics with wide eyes, and one said to the other:

“Will you just look at the penance Father Sullivan is givin’ out this night, and me without me bloomers on!”


Mairg nach ndéanann comhairle dea-mhná.
Woe to him who does not have the counsel of a good wife.


So this Irishman walks out of a bar —

No, really, it can happen.


Where does an Irishman go on vacation?

To a different bar.


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