A Turnip for the Book

'˜Now that's a turnip for the book,'

The farmer said to the pastry cook.

'˜That's a rare one, if I ever saw.'

The pastry cook was indisposed,

And both his eyes and ears were closed,

And so he never heard the farmer when the farmer swore.

'˜Here's a strange thing that I see,'

Said the cook of the paste-ter-ee.

'˜Here's a thing of which I'll later boast.'

The farmer, foaming at the jaw,

Had bolted through the kitchen door,

And was far out in the desert and was making for the coast.

The farmer was always far out.


Загрузка...