ERIN GO BRAGH (Ireland Forever)

Finnegan, who's had a drop too much, is driving home from the pub at midnight, and a cop pulls him over. Says the cop to Finnegan, "Where've you been?"

"Why, I've been to the pub, of course," says the drunk.

"Well," says the cop, "Your car's been weaving all over the road! IT looks as though you've had quite a few this evening!"

"I did all right," says Finnegan with a smile.

"Did you know," says the cop, folding his arms acrost his chest, "that a few intersections back, your wife fell out of your car?"

"Oh, thank heaven," sighs Finnegan. "For a minute there, I thought I'd gone deaf!"
. . . . . .

"Finnegan," says the cop. "Do you understand plain English?"

"I do if it's spoken in Irish," says Finnegan.

. . . . . .

Finnegan's wife had been killed in the accident and the police were questioning him. "Did she say anything before she died?" asked the cop.

"Oh, she spoke without interruption for about forty years," said Finnegan.
. . . . . .

"When I die," says J.P. Dunleavy, an Irish writer of some repute, "I want to decompose in a barrel of porter and have it served in all the pubs in Ireland!"

. . . . . .

And that's why God invented whisky--so the Irish would never rule the world!
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