Short Stories

John McCullagh April 23, 2004

‘It was Sammy McNally what did it He was never done swinging the lead And one sunny day as he swung it He hit me a blow on the head. ‘Get up’, says he trying to lift me I missed every word that he said ‘Are ye deaf?’ said he, trying to shift me But […]

John McCullagh March 23, 2004

The three Pats, Gibney, Lundy and Kavanagh were chatting over a pint in the Railway Bar one evening – oh, all right, they had a pint each – and having exhausted the usual topics of the shortcomings of women, the latest football results and the price of hay, they finally got round to telling each […]

John McCullagh March 9, 2004

‘She needs a square of being round!’ – she’s intellectually-challenged:  she has a wee want in her: she was behind the door when brains were being given out etc. But the expression reminds me of a story of my first job, many decades ago.  It was the custom then – it may well be yet […]

John McCullagh March 5, 2004

Come all yous loyal brethren, I hope yous will draw nearIt’s of a cruel murder boys, as ever you did hearA woeful lamentation I mean to let you knowI had to die for Chambre and I never struck a blow. Francis Berry is my name and my age is twenty threeI am a Roman Catholic, […]

John McCullagh February 26, 2004

You might suspect that the following epigram was recently written.  Not so. It’s from the 17th century!     Gold priests, wooden chalices In Ireland of Patrick’s time Golden chalices, wooden priests As the wretched world stands now!