The trouble with having a proper Irish wake here for Bud is that the most appropriate jokes are the least appropriate jokes, and people who are not, at least in part, Irish will find them hard to understand.
By way of explanation, a scrap of doggerel consisting four lines stolen from G. K. Chesterton and four lines of my own.
For the great Gaels of Ireland
Are the men that God made mad,
For all their wars are merry,
And all their songs are sad.
Tippling wine make them gloomy
But trouble goes to their head,
And they save their best and funniest jests
Until a friend lies dead.
So, with that warning... a joke:
Pat and Willie were sitting in the parlor on a Saturday night, drinking and shooting the bull. As the evening wore on they had reached the bottom of their bottle and that made them sad.
Willie says "Pat, I can't help noticing the bottle on your mantle. Perhaps the evening doesn't need to end so soon."
Pat gets up and walks over to the bottle. He picks it up reverently. "Oh no, Willie, " he says " this is my bottle of Tullamore Dew Ten Year Reserve. It's me burying whiskey."
"Burying whiskey?" asks Willie "What might that be?"
"Well," says Pat, thoughtfully, "I've been meaning to ask you if you'd do me a wee favor..."
"And what favor is that?"
"Well, you see, if I were to pass away before you do, I would like you to take this bottle and pour it all over me, just before they close my coffin. Would you do that for me, Willie?"
Willie tugs on his chin and considers. "I'd be honored to do that." He decides. "But there is one little thing..."
"What?" asks Pat.
"Would you mind very much if I passes it through me kidneys once first?"
Post Edited (PeterDisAbelard) : 4/5/2013 9:43:42 PM (GMT-6)