Fetching Cotton

A debt collector knocked on the door of a country family who made their living weaving cloth.

“Is Jack home?” he asked the woman who answered the door.

“I’m sorry,” the woman replied. “Jack’s gone for cotton.”

A few weeks later the collector tried again. “Is Jack here today?”

Once again the answer was “No, sir, I’m afraid he has gone for cotton.”

When he returned for the third time and Jack was still nowhere to be seen, he complained, “I suppose Jack is gone for cotton again?”

“No,” the woman answered solemnly, “Jack died yesterday.”

Suspicious that he was being avoided, the collector decided to wait a week and investigate the cemetery himself. But sure enough, there was poor Jack’s tombstone, with this inscription: …

“Gone, But Not for Cotton.”

5 responses to “Fetching Cotton

  1. Another bad ‘un here.


  2. May one suppose that Jack will rice again?


  3. I could see that coming a kilometre away


  4. What happened to poor Jack? Did something go a rye?


  5. Aye. A wee bit o’ the widow humour, aye?


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