An Irish Love Sory

An elderly man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of
impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favourite scones
wafting up the stairs.

He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself  from the bed.
Leaning on the wall, he slowly made his way  out of the bedroom, and
with even greater effort, gripping the  railing with both hands, he
crawled downstairs.

With laboured breath, he leaned against the
door-frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's  agony,
he would have thought himself already in heaven, for  there, spread
out upon the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favourite
scones.

Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of love from his  devoted Irish
wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left  this world a happy
man?

Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself  towards the table,
landing on his knees in rumpled posture.
His aged and withered hand trembled towards a scone at the edge of the
table, when it was suddenly smacked by his wife with a wooden spoon
......

'Back off' she screamed, 'they're for the funeral.'