A bit of wit from Stephen Leacock, a clever Canadian from the turn of the last century.

The thing you least want to hear.

A multi-purpose fowl.

A difficult poem to recite, without breaking down in tears. I dare you. Go Down, Death Weep not, weep not, She is not dead; She's resting in the bosom of Jesus. Heart-broken husband--weep no more; Grief-stricken son--weep no more; Left-lonesome daughter --weep no more; She only just...

Speaks for itself.

Two poems by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper and a short bio of her along with a few of her quotes.

Some think of them as a pest, but Mrs Harper thought otherwise.

Tom Tancredo typifies what Heine spoke of a couple of centuries ago.