A Farmer from Sweden and Other Stories...

There once was a farmer from Sweden,
Who hated seedin’ and weedin’;
So he rested his back,
Against a haystack,
And proceeded to do some sleepin’.

In our town there’s a fellow named Brown,
Who claims he once wore the crown;
That completely makes sense,
As he’s rather dense,
It’s likely he was king of this town.

I met a fine lady in France,
Who told me she was into romance;
I brought flowers and wine,
I asked her to dine,
And perchance if she would like to dance.

A fine gal I know named Haley,
Whose last name is Bale and not Bailey;
She lives in Dubai,
And not in Mumbai,
Daily she goes to work gaily.

A girl who was not fond of school,
Decided she’d rather play pool;
So she found a bar,
That wasn’t too far,
And came in but just sat on her stool.
(And came in but just felt like a fool.)

A pompous professor of math,
Insisted he was on the path;
To success he claimed,
As his students exclaimed,
How they wished that he would take a bath.

There once was a lady named Claire,
Who dressed with a great deal of flair;
She wore flowing gowns,
And some gleaming crowns,
And even bright flowers in her hair.

I saw a young man from Surrey,
Who seemed in an awful hurry;
When asked why, he said,
“If they catch me I’m dead,
I just stole a large bowl of curry.”

BP was eager to drill,
To drill gave them a big thrill;
But it wasn't long,
Before something went wrong,
Mankind must now foot the bill.

There once was a fellow named Vic,
Who built everything out of brick;
He did not like steel,
Wood did not appeal,
For Vic brick always did the trick.


© Copyright 2015 Regis Auffray