|
My dad has told stories of when he was a boy. he talks of a "Joker", a favorite toy. It wasn't a tractor. it wasn't a truck. But a lttle of each, a strange looking duck. Part Dodge and part Chevy, part Case and part Deere, Pieces hobbled together. What was what, wasn't clear. It could plow a field, and cut down the hay. Bring the boys swimming and plow snow from the drive-way. My dad came to visit, imagine my pride, When I took him outside to show off my new "ride". His eyes opened wide, I thought he was pleased. "What is that!" were his words, I thought "Oh Dad, you're a tease." "Why, a joker, of course", a big grin on my face, "It's a real beauty." (Perhaps not in this case.) She plows and she cuts, she loads and she rakes, The joker on my farm is all that it takes.
|
Comments
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|

