The Black Death

Submitted by IN SEINE
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Monday, 20 April 2009

An elderly parish priest was tending his garden near a convent when a passerby stopped to inquire after the priest's much-loved roses.

"Not bad," said the priest, "but they suffer from a disease peculiar to this area known as the black death."

"What on earth is that?" asked the passerby, anxious to increase his garden knowledge.

"Nuns with scissors." said the parish priest.

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