The 98 year old Mother Superior from Ireland was dying.
The nuns gathered around her bed trying to make her last journey comfortable. They gave her some warm milk to drink, but she refused. Then one of the nuns took the glass back to the kitchen. Remembering a bottle of
Irish whiskey received as a gift the previous Christmas, she opened and poured a generous amount into the warm milk.
Back at Mother Superior’s bed, she held the glass to her lips. Mother drank a little, then a little more and before they knew it, she had drunk the whole glass down to the last drop.
“Mother,” the nuns asked with earnest, “please give us some wisdom before you die.”
She raised herself up in bed and with a pious look on her face said, “Don’t sell that cow.”
St. Patrick Driving the Snakes out of Ireland (flash):
http://www.irishgreeting.com/greetingcardpro/createcard1.asp?PostCardID=460
AND:
Irish Confession
“Bless me father-- for I have sinned.
I have been with a loose woman.”
The priest asks, “Is that you, little Tommy Shaughnessy?”
"Yes, Father, it is.
“And, who was the woman you were with?”
“Sure and I can’t be tellin’ you Father.
I don’t want to ruin her reputation.”
“Well, Tommy, I’m sure to find out sooner or later, so you may as
well tell me now.
Was it Brenda O’Malley?”
“I cannot say.”
“Was it Patricia Kelly?”
“I cannot say.”
“Was it Liz Shannon?”
“I’m sorry, but I cannot name her.”
“Was it Cathy Morgan?”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Was it Fiona McDonald, then?”
“Please, Father, I cannot tell you.”
The priest sighs in frustration.
“You’re a steadfast lad,Tommy Shaughnessy,and I admire that.
But you’ve sinned, and you must atone.
You cannot attend church mass for three full months. Be off with
you now!”
Tommy walks back to his pew.
His friend Sean slides over to his seat and whispers “well…
what’d you get?”
“Three months vacation and five good leads.”
Cheerio,
Colin
An Irishman moves into a tiny hamlet in County Kerry, walks into the pub and
promptly orders three beers. The bartender raises his eyebrows, but serves
the man three beers, which he drinks quietly at a table, alone.
An hour later, the man has finished the three beers and orders three more.
This happens yet again. The next evening the man again orders and drinks
three beers at a time, several times. Soon the entire town is whispering
about the Man Who Orders Three Beers.
Finally, a week later, the bartender broaches the subject on behalf of the
town. “I don’t mean to pry, but folks around here are wondering why you
always order three beers?”
“Tis odd, isn’t it?” the man replies, “You see, I have two brothers, and one
went to America, and the other to Australia. We promised each other that
we would always order an extra two beers whenever we drank as a way of
keeping up the family bond.”
The bartender and the whole town was pleased with this answer, and soon
the Man Who Orders Three Beers became a local celebrity and source of pride
to the hamlet, even to the extent that out-of-towners would come to watch
him drink.
Then, one day, the man comes in and orders only two beers. The bartender
pours them with a heavy heart. This continues for the rest of the evening:
he orders only two beers. The word flies around town. Prayers are offered
for the soul of one of the brothers.
The next day, the bartender says to the man, “Folks around here, me
first of all, want to offer condolences to you for the death of your
brother. You
know-the two beers and all…”
The man ponders this for a moment, then replies, “You’ll be happy to
hear that my two brothers are alive and well. It’s just that I, meself, have
decided to give up drinking for Lent.”
Here is one of my favorites. It is a fair representation of the sort of humor that appeals to me.
What is green, tiny and lives in the backyard?
Paddy O’Furniture.
All the Best, Tom
A man was browsing in an antique store when he spotted – of all things - an old stuffed rat. Not knowing exactly why, he took a fancy to it and decided to make his purchase. He walked happily out of the shop with the stuffed rat under his arm. He hadn’t walked very far when he saw a rat on the sidewalk in front of him, just standing there staring at him. He quickly turned and walked the other way.
He hadn’t even made it a block when he saw another rat – again, just standing there staring at him. He looked nervously around, trying to decide which way to go now, when he noticed that there were rats everywhere – all standing there staring at him. This proved to be too much for him, and he broke into a run. Much to his dismay, the rats all took off after him.
It happens that he had run toward the town’s wharf, and he suddenly found himself trapped at the end of a pier. Panicking, he threw the stuffed rat into the sea. All the rats ran past right by him and jumped into the sea, following the fate of the stuffed rat.
Feeling very relieved, he walked back to the antique store. Approaching the owner of the shop, he asked, “Do you have any stuffed Bodhràn players?”
You’re cheating. That, I believe, is a recycled lawyer joke. 
I’ve not put “lawyer” in there yet, but I’ll keep that in mind!
Actually, I found that one a few months ago in the jokes section on The Whistle Shop’s website, and have gotten a lot of mileage out of it! (Thanks, Thom!)
Naw, the lawyer version is a recycled bodhran joke…
I hear they’re really good at recycling trash these days… 
j/k → some of my best friends are bodhran players.
(I apologize if anyone is offended)
I still prefer ‘lawyer’. I only know one bodhran player and I like her.
Good one!