Wayward Daughter

Fleeing potato famine, Mike Rashoff sailed from County Cork on a cold winter's morn in October, 1857, having bought passage in steerage to the New World, in search of a better life. Who cares.

He forwarded this allegory from the Old Country.


An Irish daughter had not been home for over five years. Upon her return, her father berated her.

"Where have ye been all this time? Why did ye not write to us, not even a line? Why didn't ye call? Can ye not understand what ye put yer old mum tru?

The girl, crying, replied, "Sniff, sniff...Dad...I became a prostitute...."

"Ye what!!? Out of here, ye shameless harlot! Sinner! You're a disgrace to t'is family!!"

"Alright then, Dad--as ye wish. I just came back to give Mum this fur coat, title deed to a ten bedroom mansion plus a savings certificate for $5 million. For me little bruther, this gold Rolex and for ye, Daddy, the sparkling new Mercedes limited edition convertible that's parked outside, plus a membership to the country club (takes a breath) and an invitation for all to spend New Year's Eve on board my new yacht in the French Riviera, and--"

"Now what was it ye said ye'd become?" inquires Dad.

Girl, crying again, "Sniff, sniff--a prostitute, Dad! Sniff, sniff."

"Oh Bejaysus! Ye scared me half to death, gurl! I t'ought ye said Protestant! Come over here, darlin', and give yer old man a hug!"