Dorothy Parker named her pet canary Onan, “because he spills his seed upon the ground.”
Humor
Editorializing
A marble-cutter, inscribing the words,–‘Lord, she was thine’ upon a tombstone, found that he had not figured his spaces correctly and he reached the end of the stone one letter short. The epitaph therefore read:
‘Lord, she was thin.’
— Frederic William Unger, Epitaphs, 1904
Limerick
There was an old lady from Slough
Who developed a terrible cough.
She drank half a pint
Of warm honey and mint,
But, sadly, she didn’t pull through.
(Thanks, Rikki.)
Rimshot
‘As I was going over the bridge the other day,’ said an Irishman, ‘I met Pat Hewins. “Hewins,” says I, “how are you?”
“Pretty well, thank you, Donnelly,” says he.
“Donnelly,” says I, “that’s not my name.”
“Faith, then, no more is mine Hewins.”
‘So with that we looked at each other agin, an’ sure enough it was nayther of us.’
— Melville D. Landon, Wit and Humor of the Age, 1888
“On Jekyll Being Nearly Thrown Down by a Small Pig”
As Jekyll walk’d out in his gown and his wig,
He happen’d to tread on a very small pig:
“Pig of science,” he said, “or else I’m mistaken,
For surely thou art an abridgment of Bacon.”
— Anonymous, collected in I.J. Reeve, The Wild Garland; or, Curiosities of Poetry, 1866
One Solution
A humourous Countryman having bought a Barn in Partnership with a Neighbour of his, neglected to make the least Use of it, whilst the other had plentifully stored his Part with Corn and Hay. In a little Time the latter came to him, and conscientiously expostulated with him about laying out his Money so fruitlessly. Pray Neighbour, says he, ne’er trouble your Head; you may do what you will with your Part of the Barn, but I will set mine on Fire.
— The Jester’s Magazine, September 1766
Unquote
“When shooting elephants in Africa, I found the tusks very difficult to remove, but in Alabama the Tuscaloosa.” — Groucho Marx
The Author’s Tale
‘Twas potter, and the little brown
Did simon and schuster in the shaw;
All mosby were the ballantines,
And the womraths mcgraw.
“Beware Jovanovich, my son!
The knopfs that crown, the platts that munk!
Beware the doubleday, and shun
The grolier wagnallfunk!”
He took his putnam sword in hand,
Long time the harcourt brace he sought;
So rested he by the crowell tree
And stood awhile in thought.
And as in harper thought he stood,
Jovanovich, with eyes of flame,
Came houghton mifflin through the wood
And bowkered as it came!
Dodd mead! Dodd mead! And from his steed
His dutton sword went kennicatt!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went quadrangling back.
“And hast thou slain Jovanovich?
Come to my arms, my bantam boy!
Oh, stein and day! Giroux! McKay!”
He scribnered in his joy.
‘Twas potter, and the little brown
Did simon and schuster in the shaw;
All mosby were the ballantines,
And the womraths mcgraw.
— Anonymous
“The Laird of Balnamoon and the Brock”
The laird, so Dean Ramsay had the story sent him, once riding past a high steep bank, stopped opposite a hole in it, and said, ‘John, I saw a brock [badger] gang in there.’ — ‘Did ye?’ said John; ‘wull ye haud my horse, sir?’ — ‘Certainly,’ said the laird, and away rushed John for a spade. After digging for half an hour, he came back, nigh speechless to the laird, who had regarded him musingly. ‘I canna find him, sir,’ said John. — ”Deed,’ said the laird, very coolly, ‘I wad ha’ wondered if ye had, for it’s ten years sin’ I saw him gang in there.’
— Adam White, Heads and Tales; or, Anecdotes and Stories of Quadrupeds and Other Beasts, 1870
Rimshot
A Country Farmer, riding to a merry Meeting on an easy Horse, drank very plentifully ’till Night came on, and his Senses fled. One of the Company resolved to pass a Joke upon him, by perswading the rest to mount him on his Horse, with his Face to the Tail, and turn the Horse loose, who knew very well the Way Home. So up they mounted him, and away went the Horse a Foot-pace, ’till the Farmer fell fast asleep. In an Hour’s Time the Horse was at Home, and presently fell a neighing. His Wife came with a Candle in her Hand and, seeing her Husband in that Condition, began to take on bitterly, and waking him, told him the Greatness of his Sin, &c. Upon which he rubs his Eyes; and, looking about, cries out in a great Passion, Puh! hold your Tongue, Woman: Nothing vexes me so much, as that the plaguy Rogues should cut my Horse’s Head off.
— The Jester’s Magazine, April 1766