Volume 2 — Pasture Pot Pourri
Reading edition
Velvet Joe Says—
Don’t fuss with hubby about droppin’ tobacco ashes on the carpet. Them ashes keep the moths out an’ the hubby in.
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Some folks would rather Blow their own horns than Listen to Sousa’s Band.
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Greatness does not depend on size. Napoleon if he were living today would never get a job as a cop.
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And Very Nice, Too!
A feller was engaged to a girl who was a twin. When asked how he told them apart, he said: “Well, they’re both nice girls.”
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Our friend Deegan insists an Irishman dies only when an angel is needed in heaven.
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How can a man get a headache without brains?
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A Family Dialogue
He—I’m not coming home tonight, dearie.
She—May I depend on that? (Oh, boy!)
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Let’s Call It the Cockeyed Blues
My girl’s eyes are so beautiful they can’t keep from looking at each other.
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Remember, boys, the turtle may be slow, but he’s always there for the soup.
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We could love a girl as “pretty as a picture” provided she had a good frame.
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Honest, This Is True
I no’a fel’la named Fawcett, Who went to his cel’la dee’pos’it, But when he got dare, The barrel was bare, And “Gus” was asleep at the Fau’cet.
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Our idea of the height of vanity is to stand in front of a looking glass when you’re asleep.
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Pathetic, Ye Gods, Too Pathetic
An Irishman and a Scotchman were standing at a bar—and the Irishman had no money.
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Glorious Daze
Two drunks on a train.
No. 1—“Whas sha time?”
No. 2 (pulling card case out of pocket)—“Thurshday.”
No. 1—“Thash our stashon. Letsh get off.”
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Try This One
The wedding cake was heavy, but the candles made it light.
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If your girl shakes you, don’t get rattled.
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Something to Worry About!
A New Brunswick priest covered his eyes in shame as some girls passed him at a bathing beach.
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We Dodged Two Yesterday
The starving pole cat leaned against the post without a cent.
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“I’ll stick to you whate’er betide, Though all the world may scoff.” Thus spoke the heavy flannel shirt, But the man said, “Aw, come off!”
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He led her to the altar, ’twas merely tit for tat; He led her to the altar, she led him after that.
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He stood on the bridge at midnight, Beneath the heaven’s great dome, Because he was married and the jag that he carried, Made him afraid to go home.
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When I go to bed at night I snore so loud I cannot sleep. In fact, I am often compelled to go into the next room so that I may not hear myself snore.
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“How is the milk maid?” He said with a bow. “It isn’t made, Sir, It comes from a cow.”
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Very Versatile
We heard the story the other day about a sailor at a ship’s concert who was unable to sing as scheduled on the program, and who offered in lieu thereof to show the audience the pictures tattoed on his chest.
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Paris Made
A world war veteran hobbled into the hardware store the other day and ordered some “tacks.”
“What kind?” asked the clerk.
“I want to use them for garters,” said the lame Vet.
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A New Fad
(A street sign in St. Paul)
“GET YOUR SHOES SHINED INSIDE.”
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X-Y-Z Tragedy
“Combination shot,” murmured the pool shark, as he leaned too far over the billiard table.
* * *
A Brief History
Whiz Bang history of the world war:
I want to go home!
When do we eat?
Who won the war? The Y.M.C.A.
Don’t stand there, soldier. This is for officers only.
If I hit, I don’t want any change.
Was that pay day or mess call?
Villa vouz promenade, M’lle?
The battle of Vim Rouge.
Mademoiselle fidelle, finee leguerre.
Hello, Statue of Liberty!
* * *
An Autumn Song Success
IF I HAVEN’T THE RENT THIS MONTH, DON’T YOU THINK THE LANDLORD OUGHT TO HELP ME OUT?
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Our Sentimental Melody
We have received several requests for copies of our original song success published several months ago entitled, “You are a million miles from nowhere when you hold her dainty hand.”
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What a Pity
Mike O’Reilly, of Butte, gazed mournfully at the corpse of his late friend, who had but recently become an atheist, muttering to himself, “You sure look fine, a clean shave, a new suit of clothes and a pair of white gloves on you. All dressed up—and no place to go.”
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Zoology
When they first met he said, “a bear.” He’d dog her footsteps everywhere. She monkeyed with him for a year, Although she said he was a deer. A little horse-play hitched the two, Now he’s the goat, it’s nothing gnu.
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Our London Report
To a young man who stood smoking a cigar the other day there approached the elderly and impertinent reformer of meek and mild reputation.
“How many cigars do you smoke a day?” asked the meddler.
“Three,” answered the youth, as patiently as he could.
“How much do you pay for them?”
“A shilling each,” confessed the young man.
“Don’t you know, sir,” continued the sage, “that if you saved that money, by the time you are as old as I am you could own that big building over the way?”
“Do you own it?” inquired the smoker.
“No.”
“Well, I do,” replied the young man.