A BIT OF HUMOR

Eye halve a spelling chequer; it came with my pea sea.
It plainly marques four my revue miss steaks eye kin knot sea.

Eye strike a key and type a word and weight four it two say
Weather eye am wrong oar write.  It shows me strait a weigh.

As soon as a mist ache is maid, it nose bee fore two long
And eye can put the error rite. Its rarely ever wrong.

Eye ran this poem threw it, I'm shore your pleased two no;
Its letter perfect in it's weigh. My chequer tolled me sew.

[forwarded by Gretchen Patti]

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It was such a small town that we didn't even have a village idiot. We had to 
take turns.

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