I happened across this joke at The Session, a web-site where traditional Irish musicians exchange tunes and talk amongst themselves:
The Mother Superior was on her death bed after a long life of service.
The other sisters, seeing that she was in some discomfort, offered her a glass of warm milk. She accepted gratefully.
While the sisters were warming the milk, one of them says, “You know, it might do the Mother Superior some comfort if we were to add a dram of whiskey; it might help relax her.”
Cradle to grave, the Mother had never touched a drop. However, her comfort was their chief concern, so the other sisters agreed, and added a couple shots of the stuff.
They brought it to her, and she sipped away at it till it was all gone. She then asked for another.
As her moment of passing drew closer, the sisters gathered close about her and said,
“Mother Superior, we shall soon be without your presence to guide us. Can you give us any words of wisdom before you go to meet your Maker?”
She smiled at them and said,
“Yes. Don’t ever sell that cow.”
Here’s another one from the same comment thread:
I just got off the phone with a friend living in the Highlands. She said that since early this morning the snow has been nearly waist high and is still falling. The temperature is dropping to 20 below and the north wind is increasing to near gale force. Her husband has done nothing but look through the kitchen window and just stare. She says that if it gets much worse, she may have to let him in.