Scratching Fanny of cock lane

chippy

The Cock Lane ghost attracted mass public attention in 18th-century England. In 1762 an apartment in Cock Lane, a short road adjacent to London's Smithfield market and a few minutes' walk from St Paul's Cathedral, was the site of a reported haunting centred around three people: William Kent, a usurer from Norfolk, Richard Parsons, a parish clerk, and Parsons' daughter Elizabeth.
Following the death during childbirth of Kent's wife, Elizabeth Lynes, he became romantically involved with her sister, Fanny. Canon law prevented the couple from marrying, but they nevertheless moved to London and lodged at the property in Cock Lane, then owned by Parsons. Several accounts of strange knocking sounds and ghostly apparitions were reported, although for the most part they stopped after the couple moved out, but following Fanny's death from smallpox, and Kent's successful legal action against Parsons over an outstanding debt, they began again. Parsons claimed that Fanny's ghost haunted his property, and later his daughter. Regular séances were held to determine "Scratching Fanny's" motives, and Cock Lane was often made impassable by the throngs of interested bystanders.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cock_Lane_ghost

Darth Beaver

OK, this is how my mind works sometimes. I read, "Scratching Fanny of cock lane", and I immediately thought of this joke.

This city fellow had just moved out to the country and decided that he needed some animals, so he decided to walkup and down his road to see what his neighbors had.

The first farm he came across had a bunch of chickens running in the yard. “Say farmer” the man yells, “Would you be willing to sell me one of your chickens?” The farmer replies, “Sure, but around here we don’t call ‘em chickens, we call ‘em pullets”.

The man thanks the farmer for the advice and picks up the pullet and continues on down the road until he comes to the next farm where the yard is full of roosters. “Say farmer”, yells the man, “Would you be willing to sell me one of your roosters?” “Sure”, says the farmer, “but around here we don’t call ‘em roosters, we call ‘em cocks”.

The man thanks the farmer and puts the cock under his other arm and continues walking down the road. He soon spots a farm with a herd of donkeys. “I could use one of those”, he says . “Hey farmer”, he yells “Would you be willing to sell me one of your donkeys?” “Sure”, says the farmer “but around here we call them asses”.

The man takes the ass and starts leading him away when the farmer yells, “Hey, sonny, that ass is a little persnickety. If he decides to sit down all you have to do to get him up again is scratch him behind his left ear.”

Thanking the farmer yet again the man decides to head for home with his animals. On the way the ass decided to sit down. The man was in a bit of trouble, he had his pullet under one arm and his cock under the other. If he put one down it would surely wander off.

Now it just so happened that a nun was just walking over the hill. The farmer, spying her, quickly ran up to her. “Excuse me miss,” he said. “Would you hold my cock and pullet while I scratch my ass?”