Angus Broon of Glasgow comes to the little lady of the house, exclaiming,
Maggie, cud ya be sewin on a wee button thats come off of me fly? I cant
button me pants.

Oh, Angus…Ive got me hands in the dishpan, go up the stairs and see if
Mrs. MacDonald could be helpin ya with it.

About 5 minutes later, theres a terrible crash, a bang, a bit of yelling
and the sound of a body falling down the stairs. Walking back in the door
with a blackened eye and a bloody nose comes Angus.

The little lady looks at him and says My God, what in hells name happened
to you? Did you ask her like I told you?

Aye, says Angus. I asked her to sew on the wee button an she did.
Everything was goin fine, but when she bent doon to bite off the wee
thread, Mr. MacDonald walked in.