Irish Wisdom

Old Sean lived alone in Northern Ireland. He wanted to spade his potato garden, but it was very hard work. His only son, Mick, who used to help him, was in an English prison.

The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament:

Dear Mick,

Oi'm feelin' a mite down because it looks like Oi won't be able t' plant ma spud garden this year. Oi'm just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. If you was 'ere, all ma troubles would be over. I know you would dig the plot for me.

Love, Dad

A few days later he received a letter from his son:

Dear Father,

For Pete's Sake, don't dig up yer garden! That's where Oi buried all them bodies!

Love, Mick

At 4am the next morning, a dozen agents from An Garda Siochana and PSNI officers showed up and dug up the entire garden down to a depth of about six feet. That evening, not finding any bodies, they apologized to the old man and left. The next day the old man received another letter from his son:

Dear Father,

Go ahead and plant yer spuds now. It's the best I could do under the circumstances.

Love, Mick