Seamus is on his death bed, surrounded by his wife and four sons. Three of the lads are the biggest, brawest things you ever saw, but the fourth is a puny, wee nothing of a man.
Seamus beckons to his missus. 'Mary...me darlin' Mary...I'm goin' love...'
'I know, Seamus. Don't hang about now.'
'Before I depart this life, Mary, tell me for true - that pale, undersized, weedy runt at the foot of the bed...is he truly my own son?'
Weeping for her impending loss, Mary tells him, 'Aye Seamus. I swear by the blessed Virgin and all the saints and angels, he's your son.' This news is all it takes, and Seamus breathes his last.
Mary gives a sigh, rolls her eyes heavenward and says, 'Thank Jaysus he didn't ask about the other three.'
Boru
Seamus beckons to his missus. 'Mary...me darlin' Mary...I'm goin' love...'
'I know, Seamus. Don't hang about now.'
'Before I depart this life, Mary, tell me for true - that pale, undersized, weedy runt at the foot of the bed...is he truly my own son?'
Weeping for her impending loss, Mary tells him, 'Aye Seamus. I swear by the blessed Virgin and all the saints and angels, he's your son.' This news is all it takes, and Seamus breathes his last.
Mary gives a sigh, rolls her eyes heavenward and says, 'Thank Jaysus he didn't ask about the other three.'
Boru
‘But it does me no injury for my neighbour to say there are twenty gods or no gods. It neither picks my pocket nor breaks my leg.’ - Thomas Jefferson