The Farmer lives down up the hill
where the flowers grow so tall.
He picks them daily for the mill
to make flour for all.
His pigs are worthy poets who
sow tales with rhyme and beat.
The sows in pens with pens write new
and old tales worth repeat.
His hens are much to foul to cook,
but lovely eggs they lay.
For hen laymen, he wrote a book
called Chickens Day by Day.
With utter confidence, the cow
gives milk to every guest.
She's sensitive to lactose now,
but still she does her best.
The bull looks fierce with horns on top,
but he just likes to roam.
Much like bowls in a china shop,
he's very much at home.
The Farmer tends his little farm
with laughter in his eyes
He says he loves its simple charm
and stays there till he dies.
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