The Irish Daughter
An Irish daughter had not been home for over five years. Upon her return, her father cursed her.
Where have ye been all this time? Why did ye not write to us, not even a line? Why didn’t ye call? Can ye not understand what ye put yer old mum thru?
The girl, crying, replied, “Sniff, sniff… Dad… I became a prostitute…”
“Ye what!!? Out of here, ye shameless harlot! Sinner! You’re a disgrace to this family.”
“OK, Dad — as ye wish. I just came back to give mum this luxurious fur coat, title deed to a ten bedroom mansion plus a savings certificate for $5 million.”
“For me little brother, this gold Rolex and for ye daddy, the sparkling new Mercedes limited edition convertible that’s parked outside plus a membership to the country club… (takes a breath)… and an invitation for ye all to spend New Years’ Eve on board my new yacht in the Riviera, and…”
“Now what was it ye said ye had become?” says dad.
Girl, crying again, “Sniff, sniff….a prostitute dad! Sniff, sniff.
“Oh! Be Jesus! Ye scared me half to death, girl! I thought ye said a Protestant. Come here and give yer old man a hug.”
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