Breakfast

The Southern Colonel at Saratoga Springs, in the days before prohibition, directed the colored waiter at his table in the hotel:

“You-all kin bring me a Kentucky breakfast.”

“An’ what is that, sir?” the waiter inquired doubtfully.

The Colonel explained:

“Bring me a big steak, a bulldog and a quart of Bourbon whiskey.”

“But why do you order a bulldog?” asked the puzzled waiter.

“To eat the steak, suh!” snapped the Colonel.