Three rather deaf friends meet on the street; “Windy, isn’t it? Said one. “No, it’s Thursday,” said the second. “So am I,” said the third. “Let’s go and have a beer.”
The poet had been droning on at the party about his various sources of inspiration. “Yes, he told the young girl. “I’m at present collecting some of my better poems to be published posthumously.” “Lovely,” said the girl. “I’ll look forward to it.”
Harry came home from Sunday school and asked his mother, “Do people really come from dust?” “In a way said,” said his mother. “And do they go back to dust?” “Yes, in a way.” She replied. “Well, mother, I looked under my bed, and somebody’s either coming or going.”
Willy runs in and tells his mother you’d better come out. I’ve just knocked over the ladder at the side of the house. His mother says, go and tell your father, I’m busy.
Willy says, Mom he already knows, he’s hanging from the roof.