I’m playing a couple of gigs this Sat, and am trying to get together a few jokes for in between songs. Plusses are short, and don’t require a brogue. The first gig is at an old folks home - so any jokes need to be “clean.” The second is late night at a pub, so no holds barred.
Here’s one I have so far:
Why can’t you borrow money from a leprechaun?
Because they are always a little short!
“…but if ye f— just one goat!”
OK, for the pub night I’ll give you the whole joke.
An old man walks into a pub in Scottland, his feet shuffling, his back bent. He drags himself onto a stool and orders a beer. Placing the full glass in front of him, the bartender inquires upon his sad face.
The man answers with a smoky and trembling voice and a Scottish accent:
Ah, tell ya man! This pub, this very pub we’re just sitting in. I built it, with me own hands! But do they call me the Pubmaker? Naa! See the wall over there, that protects our town? I built it, with me own hands! But do they call me the Wallmaker? And the bridge, you know, that crosses our river, I built it, with me own hands! But do they call me the Bridgemaker?
But I tell ya, man! YOU F— ONE GOAT!
Scotland->Ireland. Or maybe not, if your crowd is Irish.
What’s wrong with Murphy?’ asked Father Green. ‘I don’t know, Father. Yesterday he swallowed a spoon and he hasn’t stirred since,’ said Mrs Murphy.
I have Irish friends who were popular in the late 70s and 80s locally as a punk band.
They still play one or two shows a year, and they do an “Irish toast” thing where they do the anthem.
It goes something like this (sung acapella):
Weeeeeee drink, we drink, we drink,
we drink, we drink, we drink, we drink.
We drink, we drink, we drink, we drink,
we beat our fucking kids.
Ohhhhhhhhhh,
we drink, we drink, we drink, we drink,
we drink, we drink, we drink.
We drink, we drink, we drink, we drink
we hate the protestants.
(on second thought, maybe just do the leprechaun joke)
Not strictly Irish unless you tell it in a brogue, but this made me laugh.
Murphy and O’Brien go out into the woods, they come a clearing and see an abandoned well.
Murphy said ‘I wonder how deep that well is?’
O’Brien said, ‘There’s one way we could figure it out’.
Murphy says, ‘What’s that?’
O’Brien says, ‘We drop something down it, we time how long it takes to hit the bottom, you multiply that time 32 feet per second squared, the rate at which objects fall in a vacuum, subtract a little for wind resistance and we’ve got the depth of the well’.
Murphy says, ’ What are you going to drop down it?’ Then O’Brien looked all around and he saw this big heavy log lying on the ground. Next he squats down by the log and, using his legs correctly, he gets it up onto his shoulders and staggers over to the edge of the well, tips it up, drops it into the well and they start to count, 'One hippopotamus, two hippopotamus, three … ’
…(vr3)
SPLASH!!!
Murphy said, ‘Three seconds!’
O’Brien said, ‘Quick, multiply that time 32 feet per second squared!’
‘288 feet!’, Murphy said. ‘Subtract a little for wind resistance, let’s say 18 feet. The depth of that well is 270 feet deep’.
As he finished the calculation Murphy shouts, ‘LOOK OUT!!’ and he pushed O’Brien backwards and a goat ran between them and jumped head first down the well.
Murphy said, ‘My God, I’ve never seen anything like that’.
Just then a farmer walks into the clearing and said, ‘What’s going on here boys?’
O’Brien says, ‘We just figured out the depth of this well to be about 270 feet deep and then the strangest thing happened. A goat ran between the two of us and jumped head first down into the well.’
The farmer says, ‘Thank heaven it wasn’t one of my goats.’
Murphy says, ‘How do you know it wasn’t?’
And the farmer says, ‘Because all of my goats are tethered to big heavy logs.’
As is known, 4:20 is the time for indulging in the not-so-evil weed. What time do the Irish indulge in eating beans?
Too farty.
This is for the pub.
A lad sits at the end of a bar and orders a drink. He sees at the other end of the bar a one-foot tall man wearing green. He frequently sees unusual folk at this place, so he doesn’t think any more of it.
After a few minutes, the little man runs down the surface to in front of the lad. He puffs out his cheeks, hits them with his fists, and sprays foam all over the lad’s face. WHOOSH! The little man then runs back to the other end.
The lad is angry, but decides it’s a merry prank, and that he’ll be a good sport about it.
A few minutes later, the little man again runs down the surface to in front of the lad. He puffs out his cheeks, hits them with his fists, and sprays foam all over the lad’s face. WHOOSH! The little man then runs back to the other end, like before.
This time, the lad is furious, but decides to be civil about it. No sense beating up somebody a sixth his size.
A few minutes later, the little man runs down the surface to in front of the lad for a third time. He puffs out his cheeks, hits them with his fists, and sprays foam all over the lad’s face. WHOOSH! The little man then runs back to the other end.
This time, the lad blows his top. He screams to the bartender, “'Ere ye, if that little guy runs down here and spits in me face again, I gonna take out me knife and cut off his balls!”
The bartender tells him. “He’s a leprechaun. He doesn’t have any balls.”
The lad replies, “No balls? How does he piss?”
The bartender puffs out his cheeks, hits them with his fists, and goes “WHOOSH!”
Thanks - some good ones, indeed. But I definitely can’t do a brogue, and don’t want to go into long stories… With a short joke, even if it falls flat, you can quickly go into the next song!
Here’s another:
What do you call a little green man covered with running sores?
A leper-chaun!
And probably the one about the guy who drowned in the vat of Guinness…
An Englishman, a Scotsman, and an Irishman are seated at the bar. The bartender places a glass of beer in front of each of them. Before any of them can take a sip, a fly lands in each of their beers.
The Englishman looks disgusted, and slides his beer back to the bartender, signaling for a new beer.
The Scotsman shrugs, plucks the fly out of his beer, tosses it aside, and takes a drink.
The Irishman plucks the fly out of his beer, then holds it above the glass, and starts to shake it. “Spit it out! Spit it all out, ye bastard!”
Patty O’Houlihan walks into a Southie bar and orders 3 pints of Guinness.
So the bartender brings him three pints and Patty proceeds to alternately sip one, then the other, then the third until they’re gone. He then orders three more.
The bartender says, “Sir, you don’t have to order three at a time. I can keep an eye on your glass and when you get low, I’ll bring you another one.”
Patty says, “You don’t understand. I have two brothers, one in Australia and one back in Ireland. We made a vow to each other that every Saturday night we’d still drink together. So right now, my brothers have three Guinness too, and we’re drinking together.”
The bartender thought that was a wonderful tradition. Every Saturday without fail Patty came in and ordered three beers. Then one night he came in and ordered only two. The bartender said to him, “Sir, I hope everything is OK with your brothers.”
The man said, “Oh, me brothers are fine, but my doctor told me I have to quit drinking.”
Q: What do you call an Irishman who stays out on your porch all night?
A: Paddy O’Furniture.
This one does require a bit of an Irish accent, alas.
Q: Why did the Irishman only eat 239 beans?
A: Because if he ate one more, he’d be too farty.
What’s a mile long, green, and has an asshole every three feet?
A St. Patrick’s Day parade.
A tourist is travelling in Ireland, and walks into a pub.
One of the patrons says, “Welcome, stranger, but before we can have a drink with you, we must ask one question. Are you a Catholic, or a Protestant?”
“Neither,” the traveler replies. “I’m Jewish.”
The patron thinks for a moment, then says, “Well, all right, then. But are you a Catholic Jew, or a Protestant Jew?”
Back about 1920 an Irishman from New York City visited some family up around Scranton PA. He got off the train and saw a couple cops named Jawarsky and Nemchik. Later on he met a local fire captain named Kowalski. The same kind of thing went on his entire visit; every fireman or policeman he met was either a “chil” or a “ski”.
He got home and someone asked him how he enjoyed his trip and he said “Terrific!!! But you should have seen the monikers of those lads up there — must have been from the Glencolmcille Peninsula in Donegal.”
OK ---- maybe a little obscure for your audience. But I always enjoyed it. 
Best bet would be “Two Irishmen walk past a bar ------- hey! It could happen!”
Pat and Mike are watching the local bordello to see who comes and goes. Before long they see a protestant preacher head inside. “Would you have a look at that, Mikey? See what those dirty protestants are doing!” A bit later they see a rabbi enter, and Pat says "Can you believe it? The Jews aren’t any better!’ Soon enough they see their priest Father Murphy go inside “Take off your hat, Mikey, one of the girls has died.”
What’s the difference between an Irish wedding and an Irish wake? One less drunk.
Two Irishmen are eating beans, how old are they? One is farty, the other is farty too.
That’s one of my all-time faves!
Here’s one I can claim is Irish:
An old man is driving down the road and gets stopped by a cop.
Cop says, “Didn’t you realize your wife fell out of the car 5 miles back?”
To which the driver replies, “Praise the lord, I thought I was going deaf!”
Or the (Irish) priest is driving and gets stopped by a cop.
Cop asks if he’s been drinking.
“Only water,” the priest replies.
The cop asks, “Then why do I smell wine?”
The priest looks at his bottle and exclaims, “Sweet Jesus, you’ve done it again!”
I was going to suggest the same one as BobLibDem, except in the version I’ve heard, they’re digging a ditch across from the house of ill repute, and the punchline is “Ah, one of the poor lasses must be sick”.
Call me a wet blanket, but the first thing I thought when I heard this joke is, why would a leprechaun (or anyone) need balls to piss? How do you think eunuchs do it?