John McCullagh February 7, 2005
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There was a man one time these parts, be the name of Sheepman.  This was on account of he’s working for sheepmen in Camlough.
 
Sure he was all over the country and when he got home he was all the time drunk.  The priest came up to him one night,
 
‘How about going home to yer wife and family?’ he shouted.
 
‘The next time I see you in this condition, I’ll put horns on ye!’
 
‘Ah sure, now Father, that wouldn’t do at all, at all.’  The Sheepman said.
 
‘The work would never be done!
 
Sure every time I’d pass, I’d be tearing the ar*e out of yer trousers!’

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