Peasant Passes By Shouting ‘Bring Out Your Dead!’
I’ve found null and void to be a very peasant fellow.
I mean, ‘pleasant fellow’.
Oh, I’M the ‘peasant fellow’.
I get us confused. No you don’t. Yes he does.
I only argue with myself on days of the week ending in ‘y’ and every February 31st.
I’m not a pheasant plucker,
I’m only the pheasant plucker’s son...
The wife was bemoaning to her husband as they sat home from church and had to watch it livestream one again, and how sad she is that she can’t go to church.
“Well, at least it isn’t yesterday.”
“What!?”
“That’s a Sadderday.”