Three bags full

Small Mary O'deepes has lost her sheeps,

And doesn't know if she should fine them.

"Here she comes."

" Let's run! She never catch us."

"Faster Finnegan!"

"Uh, oh, she's backin' up."

"Let's see how game she is for the chase."

"Hey, I'm not jumping in the ocean. You think I'm some kind of IdJit?"

"When I say jump?"

"You jump!"

"Ah, and she'll never find me here."

"You lookin' for us sweet Mary?"

"Why Mary we been here the whole time.

"So wooja mind, sweet Mary, runnin' up the hill to fetch us a pail of water, and for that we'll wish ya Saint Patty's day."

"Happy Saint Patrick's Day" he says with a sheepish grin."

"Slante!"

Swan Song

I worked with some photographers through the years that advised me, "it is just GOSH to use signs in your stories." For the most part I bowed to their wisdom, although Dan Dwyer and I won an Emmy doing that.

Nevertheless, as Peggy and I made our way aboard a train from Killarney to Dublin, I ripped my hand away from the shutter as we passed Tipperary Junction. But Later?

" CLICK, CLICK, CLICK."

I can still remember the musical whimsy that came from Limericks in elementary school. So this little sign set me off. Earlier in the week we'd seen a brilliant local musical revue in Kilorglan. It was called THE THREE PIGS. As an Irish lass told us in New Jersey, "I doubt it will have much to do with the nursery rhyme." She was so right.


Anyway, after the final curtain, one of the main characters popped out and just made up Limericks off the top of his head for about 20 minutes.


So when we got back to Cheri's cottage, I kept Peggy up most of the night composing. Don't remember a single one of them.


But the time has come to see if I can get those juices flowing again...so here goes



"Who Am I," by Paul Reinertson



If in Ireland to find your life's roots,

Dear Peggy tracks down your "ol' coots,"

Outside of Killarney,

She'll fill ya with Blarney,

She says I'm related to NEWTS.

"Sexy Surfers," by Paul Reinertson



"Surf's up in Dingle Bay" the Irish say,

'Cause Gulf Stream waters come this way,

Yet no teeny bikinis,

for these hot Wahines,




You'll need to come back in May.








"Irish Hospitality," by Paul Reinertson







The Irish are a friendly bunch,

Most happy to treat you to lunch,




Need a place to sleep?

"Ocean's not so deep!

(The Sleeping Man, Blasket Islands)

Somehow I just had a hunch.

"Down but not out," by Paul Reinertson

So you're havin' a pretty bad day,

There's a cure the Irish will say,

The Doctor's not in,

And you're needin' a grin?

Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, Murphy.

"Birds of an Irish Feather," by Paul Reinertson

Ireland is sure a mysterious place,

Just ask these gulls of humble grace,

A fairy waves its hand,

The Miracle is grand,

Transformed into a royal race.


In the words of Woody Woodpecker, "....oh you know those words."