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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