"Arrgh! What happened?" the Leprechaun asked. "Oh, I see. Well, ye got me fair and square. Ye get three wishes, so whaddya want?"

"Thank God, you're all right!" the golfer answers in relief "I don't want anything. I'm just glad you're OK, and I apologize. I really didn't mean to hit you." And the golfer walks off.

What a nice guy," the Leprechaun says to himself. "But it was fair and square that he got me, and I have to do something for him. I'll give him the three things I would want...a great golf game, all the money he ever needs, and a fantastic sex life."

A year goes by (as it does in stories like this) and the Australian golfer is back. On the same hole, he again hits a bad drive into the woods and the Leprechaun is there waiting for him.

"Twas me that made ye hit the ball here," the little guys says. "I just want to ask ye, how's yer golf game?"

"My game is fantastic!" the golfer answers. "In fact, that's the first bad ball I've hit in a year! I'm an internationally famous golfer now." He adds, "By the way, it's good to see you're all right."

"Oh, I'm fine now, thankee. I did that fer yer golf game, you know. And tell me, how's yer money situation?"

"Why, it's just wonderful!" the golfer states. "I win fortunes in golf. If I need cash, I just reach in my pocket and pull out $100.00 bills I didn't even know they were there!"

"I did that fer ye also. And tell me, how's yer sex life?"

The golfer blushes, turns his head away in embarrassment, and says shyly, It's OK."

"C'mon, c'mon now," urged the Leprechaun, "I'm wanting to know if I did a good job. How many times a day?"

Blushing even more, the golfer looks around then whispers, "Once, sometimes twice a week."

"What??" responds the Leprechaun in shock. "That's all? Only once or twice a week?"

"Well," says the golfer, "I figure that's not bad for a priest in a small parish."

One day, when he was out plowing, his wife brought him lunch in the field. He drove the old mule into the shade, sat down on a stump, and began to eat his lunch. Immediately, his wife began haranguing him again. Complain, nag, nag; it just went on and on.

All of a sudden, the old mule lashed out with both hind feet; caught her smack in the back of the head. Killed her dead on the spot.

At the funeral several days later, the minister noticed something rather odd. When a woman mourner would approach the old farmer, he would listen for a minute, then nod his head in agreement; but when a man mourner approached him, he would listen for a minute, then shake his head in disagreement. This was so consistent, the minister decided to ask the old farmer about it.

So after the funeral, the minister spoke to the old farmer, and asked him why he nodded his head and agreed with the women, but always shook his head and disagreed with all the men.

The old farmer said: "Well, the women would come up and say something about how nice my wife looked, or how pretty her dress was, so I'd nod my head in agreement."

"And what about the men?" the minister asked.

"They wanted to know if the mule was for sale."