Sean and Shamus worked at the Guinness plant in Dublin. It was Sean's job to stir one of the big open vats, and getting a little close to the edge, he slipped, fell in, and drowned.
It of course fell to his good friend Shamus to inform his wife Mary of her new status as a widow.
So he ambled up the cobblestone path to the wee little cottage and rapped gently on the oak door. With a creak and groan it opened to reveal the fine and surprised face of the new widow.
"Well, Shamus, what brings you to me door this hour of the day?"
"Mary, I, I......"
"Don't stand there jabberin' man, come in and sit down, and have a spot of tea while you collect your thoughts."
Shamus gathered his courage while Mary was getting tea and biscuits, and blurted it out as he picked up his cup,
"Mary, it's about Sean."
The color fled from her face and the cup stopped just short of her mouth when he continued:
It's bad Mary: he's dead. He fell into the vat and he drowned."
When the full force of the news and all its weight crashed into her heart and soul, she wailed as only an Irish woman could. Shamus held his cup between both hands, not knowing what to do or say as Mary screamed, rocking to and fro
on the settee.
"O Shamus, this is more than I can stand. Please tell me he didn't suffer."
"Oh, I'm sure of that."
Wiping away tears and gently blowing her nose into the linen handkerchief, she softly inquired as to why he was so sure.
"Well Mary, he got out three times to pee."
