The Funny Bone

Short Stories and Amusing Anecdotes for a Dull Hour

AXIOMS
Tew brake a mule—commence at his head.
In shooting at a deer that looks like a calf, always aim so as to miss it if it iz a calf, and to hit it if it iz a deer.
Tew git rid of cock-roaches—sell yure house, and lot, and flee tew the mountains.
Tew pick out a good husband—shut up both eyes, grab hard, and trust in the Lord.
There ain’t nothing that iz a sure kure for laziness, but i hav known a second wife tew hurry it sum.
Josh Billings Allminax.
Michael Maloney’s
Serenade
Oh, Nora McCune!
Is it draimin’ ye are?
Is it wakin’ or shleepin’ ye be?
’Tis the dark of the moon
An’ there’s niver a star
To watch if ye’re peepin’ at me.
Throw opin yer blind, shweet love, if ye’re there;
An’ if ye are not, plaze be shpakin’;
An’ if ye’re inclined, ye might bring yer guitah,
An’ help me, me darlint to wakin’.
I am lonely! Ahone!
An’ I’m Michael Maloney,
Awakin’ shweet Nora McCune.
For, love, I’m alone,
An’ here’s Larrie Mahoney,
An’ Dinnis O’Rouk an’ Muldoon.
I’ve brought them to jine in the song I’ll be singin’;
For, Nora, shweet Nora McCune,
Ye’ve shtarted me heart-strings so loudly to ringin’,
One person can’t carry the chune!
But don’t be unaisy,
Me darlint, for fear
Our saicrit of love should be tould.
Mahoney is crazy,
An’ Dinnis can’t hear;
Muldoon is struck dum wid a could.
Their backs are all facin’ the window, me dear;
An’ they’ve shworn by the horn of the moon
That niver a note of me song will they hear
That refers to shweet Nora McCune.
A GOOD AFTER-DINNER SPEECH
It was his first banquet, and they were making speeches. Everybody was being called on for a speech, and he was in mortal terror, for he had never made a speech in his life. An old-timer at his side cruelly suggested that he “get under the table—or say a prayer.” His name was called and he got up with fear and trembling, and said:
“My friends, I never made a speech in all my life, and I’m just scared nearly to death. A friend here beside me has suggested two things for me to do—to get under the table, or to pray. Well, I couldn’t get under the table without observation, and now that I am on my feet, I can’t think of any other prayer to say except one that I used to hear my sister Mary say in the morning when mother called us—‘O Lord, how I do hate to get up!’”