In the deep-freeze cold of Molunkus, a small Maine town, the young farmhand fell in love with the farmer's daughter. They lived in a rickety, old farmhouse, with no indoor plumbing and no central heat. The weather beaten building was colder then a well digger's ass in the Yukon. The daughter's parents acquiesced to the marriage and the couple was wed on a dark, windy night in February. With no funds for a travel honeymoon the couple was content to spend their wedding night in the upstairs, back bedroom. The following morning the bride appeared in the kitchen where the mother was preparing pork scraps and boiled potato for breakfast.
"How did things go?" asked the mother.
"Not so good," the daughter responded, "he didn't touch me!"
"Well," the mother said, "when you go to bed tonight tell your husband to touch you where you pee."

Next morning the daughter appears in the kitchen for a feed of pork scraps and potato and her mother asks once again, "How did it go?"
Again the daughter responded, "Not so good."
"Where's your husband?' the mother asked.
He's upstairs with his hand frozen to the piss pot!"