March 16, 2007

Top O' The Morning To You

With St. Patricks Day so near I am reminded of a typical Irish greeting:

"Top O' The Morning To You."
The typical Irish response is:
"And the rest of the day to yourself."
I recently found an Irish spanking tale (yes, I said spanking) I thought you all might get a kick out of:


It was a foine, soft mornin' in the Glen of Aherlow. The grass was a lovely emerald green, and the patches of heather on the sides of the Knockmealldown Mountains in the distance added a delightful splash of contrasting colour to the scene. If it were not for the rain, it would, for certain, have been a grand day altogether. As it was, for those in the Glen as well as the rest of the land, 'twas surely a day to be happy. The winter was over, the shamrocks were filling the country with the mystic message of the Holy Patrick, Himself, even though the man had long since departed this mortal coil and gone to live with the rest of the saints as well as the angels and archangels and all the company of Heaven. The month was March, the date the seventeenth, when all the world tried to be Irish, and if they failed in the attempt, they wished indeed that they were. Paidrag, whose birthday it was, looked down from among the clouds, proud that his work was done and done well. There wasn't a snake to be seen in all Ireland.

It so happened, however, that a grand wee leprechaun named Seamus was just coming from Mrs. O'Brien's public house on the road that winds through the Glen, where he had partaken of the spirits of Hennessey, Bushmills and the local potheen, washed down with a pint of good Guinness, when he was accosted by none other than Donnel, the O'Toole himself.

"Ah, Seamus," said The O'Toole. "I've caught you at last, and on Paddy's day itself," and grasping the leprechaun by the arm, led him back into the snug of Mrs. O'Brien's establishment. In due course the local squire, awakened from his sleep by the pair of them singing 'The Wearing of the Green' in magnificent, fortissimo style, called upon the local constabulary to do their duty and restore peace and order to the Glen of Aherlow.

Constable Connel O'Flynn duly made the call, and reminded Mrs. O'Brien that the licensed hours in Tipperary did not begin before noon, and that it was now only seven o'clock in the morning. Colleen O'Brien did her best to explain, and told Connel that Seamus the leprechaun and the O'Toole himself were two famous Irish tenors on tour, and as travellers, permitted certain dispensations, according to the Holy Father himself. Constable O'Flynn politely pointed out that the O'Toole was hardly a traveller, being a resident of the village of Kilshane a mere half a country mile from the pub, and the leprechaun was well known to reside in a wee cottage in the Glen itself. Sadly accepting the logic of the constable's argument, Colleen announced , "Last call!" and served a final pint of Harp Lager to Seamus, Donnel O'Toole and naturally one for Constable Connel himself. Mrs. O'Brien had a wee nip of The Glenlivet for herself.

In due course, their drinks finished, Seamus and O'Toole took their leave, while Connel O'Flynn remained behind to take care of Colleen O'Brien's behind by giving the pretty lady a grand spanking on her fine bare ass for serving outside legal hours. They both enjoyed it thoroughly, and had another drink after.

Meanwhile, out on the roadway, The O'Toole asked, "Seamus, I did catch you coming out of the pub, didn't I?"

"That you did, Donnel."

"Is it true what they say about leprechauns when you catch them?"

"Aye, it is that, Donnel. Come away to my place and we'll have a look in the pot, and there should be some gold for you." Arm in arm they staggered down the road to Seamus' cottage, singing 'The Harp That Once Through Tara's Halls,' almost in tune. Some distance away at Kilshane, the squire rolled over in his bed, groaned, and covered his ears with his pillow.

On reaching the cottage, Seamus led The O'Toole around to the back, to a wee space between the chicken coop and the pig pen where there was what looked like a very small hay stack. Seamus pulled some of the hay out of the way, revealing a large black pot. "Here we are, Donnel! Gold! Liquid gold, a wee dram for you and another for myself." Seamus raised the lid, and was horrified to see that the pot was empty!

At that very moment, they heard a sneeze. It was none other than Elora, Seamus' lovely callypigian companion with the gorgeous red hair, sparkling green eyes and mischievous grin.

"Sure and faith, Donnel, the lass has done it again!"

"Done what again, Seamus?"

"She's taken The Glenlivet!"

"May all the saints above, especially Holy Patrick Himself, have mercy upon us." The O'Toole was always correct in his devotions.

"Amen!" said Seamus, seating himself on the step of the stile that goes over the fence around the chicken coop. "Over my lap, Mavourneen," he said to Elora, who complied at once, lifting her skirts as she did so.

Seamus was pleased to see that the colleen was properly dressed for the holy day, the usual pale blue panties having been replaced for the occasion by a lovely green pair.

While Donnel O'Toole, licking his lips, watched, Seamus patted the two green mounds, then because this was a private moment, asked his friend to close his eyes for a few minutes. Down came the panties, and Seamus, after admiring the glorious view and stroking the tender softness, gave Elora a nice spanking.

When the spanking was over, Donnel was told he could open his eyes, and Elora went to the basket she had been carrying to where the pot was hidden, and produced from it a beautiful green bottle. Its contents may have come from just across the water in Banffshire, but at least the bottle was suited to Patrick's isle.

The three of them had a grand time since Elora, still rubbing her spanked bottom appreciatively, had also brought three cut glass tumblers of Waterford crystal. These served admirably, and when it was time for the pub to be opened legally by Mrs. O'Brien, the Glenlivet bottle being emptied, Donnel O'Toole betook himself there, while Seamus took Elora across his lap once again. Surely it was her fault that the bottle was empty?

As The O'Toole took his leave, they all exchanged the correct greetings for St. Patrick's day, and with a wave to Elora and Seamus, Donnel said, "And the top o'the morning to you both."

Together, just as the pretty green panties were lowered again, Seamus and lovely Elora said in chorus, "And the rest of the day to yourself." Happy St. Patrick's Day!

This tale comes to you through the courtesy of Blarney Castle, County Cork, in the Republic of Ireland. (Yes, I really did kiss the Blarney Stone. Shows at times, I guess.)

Ross of Kilahara

Fookin' Koontz