Harpe Puns

It was a Lyre

“oon”.

The host says, “What are you dressed as?” I tell him, “I’m a harp.” He says, “But your costume is to small to be a harp.” I was incredibly offended, and tell him, “Are you calling me a lyre?!”

...he’s really a big lyre.

Please don’t resort to violins and anger if you don’t notice.

But they just called me a lyre.

He was known to be a lyre

It was pretty Jarreing.

They're good at pulling strings.

They’re big lyres.

Another party attendee challenged me, saying "no way is your costume a harp".

I replied, ">!So, are you calling me a lyre?!<"

Anything but a Canadian Club.

She was a massive lyre

Guy 1: What are you dressed as?

Guy 2: I'm a harp

Guy 1: That looks too small for a harp

Guy 2: You calling me a lyre?

“Sorry, son. I’m baroque”

It was a harp-C-chord.

My dad was really quiet for about 20 minutes (usually a sign that he's concocting a pun) and then spouted out this gem:

Two people meet at a costume party

"What did you dress up as?" "I'm a harp!" "Really? It looks a little small to be a harp." "Are calling me a lyre?"

While reading an article about fathers and sons drinking together, I remembered the time I took my daughter out for her first drink. Off we went to our local bar only two blocks from the house. I got her a Guinness. She didn't like it, so I drank it. Then I got her a Killian's she didn't like that either, so I drank it. Finally, I thought she might like some Harp Lager? She didn't. I drank it. I thought maybe she'd like whiskey better than beer so we tried a Jameson's; nope! In desperation, I had her try that 25 year old Glenfiddich. The bar's finest scotch. She wouldn't even smell it. What could I do but drink it! By the time I realized she just didn't like to drink, I was so shit-faced I could hardly push her stroller back home!!!
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[edited for spelling. sorry to offend.]

HI I’m Tim the turtle, yes a real turtle. And I would like to tell you the story of my best friend. I once had a friend by the name of Sam. Sam of course was a clam. A real live honest to goodness clam. He was my best buddy, but unfortunately he smoked and drank and ran around with loose women (and a few men). I was more of the goodie two shoes type. I never drank, never smoked, I didn’t even swear. But for some reason Sam and I were the best of friends. I guess you can say we were the epitome of opposites attracting. One day as we were hanging out walking along the beach Sam, after his fifth cigarette in a row, had a heart attack and died. I was heart broken. My best friend died right there in front of me and he never repented his evil ways. I was sure he would spend eternity in damnation. Sigh. Being the goodie two shoes type I was still extremely healthy well into my old age. I missed my friend terribly for many years. On his birthday I would host a party and invite his old stripper girlfriends and poker buddies around to relive stories. It was always a fun evening, but in the end left me more lonely than before. Eventually, my broken heart couldn’t stand it anymore and I too died. I was pleased to find that there was a heaven. Being an almost saint I was whisked directly past the line to the Pearly Gates to be greeted by St. Peter. A big grin erupted on his face and he came right around his desk to give me a great big hug. “Tim”, he said, “You have been such a good person back on earth that God has asked me to grant you any wish you would like before even entering heaven”. To say I was flabbergasted is an understatement. I thought for a minute, I guess God expected me to ask for more time on earth, but I knew what I really wanted to do was to visit with my old friend Sam. So I asked. Poor St. Peter didn’t know what to say. You know Sam is in Hell right? Well I knew that was a strong possibility so I wasn’t surprised. Peter excused himself for a while and went to check with the big guy himself. He was gone quite some time, but eventually he returned. Peter said my request was approved, but under a few conditions. First, I would have to carry a golden harp as a passport back into heaven. This harp could only be carried by a good soul so I couldn’t be replaced by a look alike demon. Second, I would have to return by midnight. God didn’t want me to face too much temptation. I agreed to these conditions and took the highway down to hell. (Nope n

I drove all the way to his house just to find out he's just a big fucking lyre.

Host: what are you?

Me: I'm a harp.

Host: Your costumes too small to be a harp.

Me: are you calling me a lyre!?

Host: What are you? Me: A harp. Host: Your costume is too small for a harp. Me: Are you calling me a lyre!?

Host: What are you? Me: A Harp Host: Your costume's too small to be a harp Me: Are you calling me a lyre?

Credit to u/IronProdigyOfficial , x-post from r/whitepeopletwitter