One last one, before I shut up.

A Welsh lady, named Jones, dies and goes to Heaven. Saint Peter sighs at the thought of tracking down her antecedents and takes down the details. Finally, he gets to the question, "Is there a relative or close friend you believe to be in Heaven, whom we may contact for further details ?"

"Yes", she replies, "My late husband Mr. Ephraim Jones".

Saint Peter says, "Well, if you would care to take a seat for a couple of thousand years, I'm sure we'll find him among the countless multitudes of Welshmen named Jones we have in here. Has he any distinguishing marks or features ?"

The lady says, "Well, he did say that if ever I was unfaithful to him, he'd spin in his grave."

Peter says, "Oh, why didn't you say ! You must mean Jones the top !"

Iechyd day pob Cymri ...