"
"The closest race I ever saw," declared the Scotchman, "was one in
which a horse, stung by a bee, won by the eighth of the swelling of
his nose."
"The closest race I ever saw," said the Irishman, "is the Scotch."
Some travellers returning to their hotel in Edinburgh one evening
noticed an old Scotchman working anxiously over a penny-in-the-slot
machine that refused to deliver his purchase or to return the penny.
The next morning on passing the same spot they saw the poor man dead
beside the slot machine.
Two old Scotsmen sat by the roadside, talking and puffing away merrily
at their pipes.
"There's no muckle pleasure in smokin', Sandy," said Donald.
"Hoo dae ye mak' that oot?" questioned Sandy.
"Weel," said Donald, "ye see, if ye're smokin' yer ain bacca ye're
thinkin' o' the awfu' expense, an' if ye're smokin' some ither body's,
yer pipe's ramm't sae tight it winna draw."
A Scotchman had been presented with a pint flask of rare old Scotch
whisky. He was walking briskly along the road toward home, when along
came a Ford which he did not side-step quite in time. It threw him
down and hurt his leg quite badly. He got up and limped down the road.
Suddenly he noticed that something warm and wet was trickling down his
leg.
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