A parsimonious farmer notorious for the small rations he doled out to
his employees, said to a farmhand eating his breakfast,
"Jock, there's a fly in yer parritch."
"That disna' matter," replied Jock gloomily, "it'll no' droon."
The farmer stared at him. "What do ye mean?" he asked angrily; "that's
as much as sayin' ye hav'na' enough mulk."
"Oh," replied Jock still more gloomily, "there's mair than enough for
all the parritch I have."
* * *