In the time of the Great Hunger, there were a number of decent Protestant clergymen who took pity on their destitute and starving Roman Catholic neighbours.
One in particular delivered a bag of potatoes to a local head of family, a man not exactly known for his charitable views towards Protestants!
It was some time later that the Minister met him and amusedly enquired of how the family had enjoyed their meal.
‘Ah! Grand! Grand!’ the man replied.
‘I was wondering whether you had any reservations?’ he asked,
‘Considering where the potatoes came from?’
‘Ah, no! No..
None at all!’ the man concluded.
‘Sure, didn’t I boil the divil outta them?’
You’ve heard the rather insulting couplet – often quoted – about Newry’s
Dirty streets, proud people!
The recent traveller, passing through late on a weekend night, was no less insulting in his twentieth century poem.
‘In Newry Town
With Church and Tower and Steeple
In every door
There stands a hoor!
Gawping at dacent people!’