They were looking at the kangaroo at the zoo when an Irishman said:
“Beg pardon, sor, phwat kind of a crature is that?”
“Oh,” said the gentleman, “that is a native of Australia.”
“Good hivins!” exclaimed Pat; “an’ me sister married wan e’ thim.”
A wizened little Irishman applied for a job loading a ship. At first they said he was too small, but he finally persuaded them to give him a trial. He seemed to be making good, until they gradually increased the size of his load until on the last trip he was carrying a 300-pound anvil under each arm. When he was half-way across the gangplank it broke and the Irishman fell in. With a great splashing and sputtering he came to the surface.
“T’row me a rope!” he shouted, and again sank. A second time he rose to the surface. “T’row me a rope. I say!” he shouted again. Once more he sank. A third time he rose struggling.
“Say!” he spluttered angrily, “if one uv you shpalpeens don’t hurry up an’ t’row me a rope I’m goin’ to drop one uv these damn t’ings!”