Bumping The Bumps

A farmer in a western town,

     His name I’ll not repeat,

Put in a mile or two of corn

     And eight or ten of wheat.

His land was rich, his crops they grew,

     Seemed like they’d never stop;

And when the harvest came around

     He had a bumper crop.

This farmer bought an auto then

     And paid the cash right down;

He filled it up with gasoline

     And joy-rode back to town.

The hills were steep, the ruts were deep,

     But he refused to stop;

And ere he’d reached his home he had

     Another bumper crop.

Nov. 10, 1912

Acptd by

    Puck