A letter from an irish mother
Dear Son,

Just a few lines to let you know I'm still alive. I'm writing this
letter slowly because I know you can't read fast. You won't know the
house when you get home - we have moved.

About your father - he has a lovely new job. He has 500 men under him -
he cuts grass at the cemetery. There was a washing machine at the new
house when we moved in but it hasn't been working too good. Last week I
put in 14 shirts, pulled the chain, and haven't seen the shirts since.

Your sister Mary had a baby this morning but I haven't find out whether
it's a boy or a girl, so I don't know if you are an aunt or an uncle.

Your Uncle Patrick drowned last week in a vat of whisky in the Dublin
Brewery. Some of his workmates tried to save him but he fought them off
bravely. They cremated him and it took three days to put out the fire.

I went to the doctor on Thursday and your father went with me. The
doctor put a small tube in my mouth and told me not to talk for ten
minutes. Your father offered to buy it from him.

It only rained twice this week, first for three days and then for four
days. Monday was so windy, one of the chickens laid the same egg four
times. We had a letter from the undertaker. He said if the last payment
on your Grandmother's plot wasn't paid in seven days, up she comes.

 Your loving Mother,
                XXXXXXXXX

P.S. : I was going to send you ten dollars but I had already sealed
the envelope.