Farm Limericks

There was once a young farmer named Heap,

Who spent all his mornings in sleep;

      He sowed all his grains

      In his mind, it was plain,

So then he had nothing to reap.

The cabbage said to the tomato:

“Although you’re above the potato,

      You belong to the group

      That gets into the soup,

And your reading is nothing but ‘Plato’.”

A hop-toad sat under a harrow,

And made foolish eyes at a sparrow;

      The sparrow looked down

      With a dignified frown,

Which chilled to poor toad to the marrow.

c. Sept. 1, ‘11