Wee Hughie was dying. Tenderly, his wife Maggie knelt by his bedside and asked,"Anything I can get you, Hughie?"

"No" He replied.

"You must have a last wish, Hughie?" asked his wife.

Faintly, came the answer. . . "A wee bit of of that boiled ham over yonder would be nice,"

"Ach, man... you can't have that" said Maggie, "You know it's for the your funeral".

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