I haven’t run any of the Lazy Farmer rhymes for a good while, and I have only a couple left. The first one is from the Oct. 8, 1938, Michigan Farmer.
When I was young the women wore a lot of clothing on before
and twice as much as that behind, but now it seems that they don’t mind
a-goin’ ‘round with ev’ry knee in plain sight for the world to see.
It used to be a cause for shock if you should glimpse a tiny piece of sock,
but now bare ankles ain’t no treat; in fact, you see a lot of meat
where’er you go, for folks expose more than they cover up with clothes.
The bathin’ suits girls wear today would make my mother faint away.
When she was fixed up for a swim you couldn’t see a leg or limb.
But nowdays competition’s keen to let a lot of hide be seen.
Just why the women want to show bowlegs or swaybacks I don’t know,
the most has got so many flaws they ought to wear more clothes because
their clothes is prettier than them; when covered up with stitch and hem
they don’t look bad, but what a fright they are when they’re exposed to sight.
If we could make them women see how much better lookin’ they would be
with plenty clothes hung on their frame to cover up the faults of same,
we’d have a market for our wool, we wouldn’t have to plow and pull
our cotton, for the market would in that case surely be quite good.
This farmin’ job would be less tough if women only wore enough,
the skirts they wore in mother’s day would sure make cotton raisin’ pay;
the clothes she wore, both thick and full, used up an awful lot of wool.
Prosperity will come again if women listen to us men,
and hide their blemishes from view, and cover up their legs in lieu
of struttin’ ‘round for all to see their bunions and their corns, by gee!
In a Walmart store on a hot summer night, the old Farmer would likely flee in fright.
At the scantily clad women he would see, they’d make him step on his goatee, by gee!
This last one is more apropos to the season and is from the Nov. 3, 1951 issue of Ohio Farmer.
November’s coming tickles me: I’m always happy as can be
when winter time arrives again, cuz it’s the only season when
I can relax beside the fire and not arouse Mirandy’s ire.
It’s not like spring, when she screams loud if I don’t help get the fields all plowed;
in summer when small grain gets ripe, my loafing gives her cause to gripe;
in early fall, a million chores all pressure me to get outdoors,
and if I try to loaf and slack, she’s sure to make some nasty crack.
But soon as sky shows signs of snow and icy winds begin to blow,
the heat is off and I am free to do my loafing openly.
The choring won’t amount to much, just feeding cows and hens and such;
an hour of milking twice a day—that job’s Mirandy’s anyway;
some eggs to gather now and then, and I cannot remember when
Mirandy ever did allow me in the henhouse anyhow.
And so the next four months will be a mighty pleasant time for me;
instead of being forced to sneak off where I cannot hear her speak,
I now can squat in my own chair and know the boss won’t even care.
Wish’t I’d saved a “Punkin’ Pie” rhyme for now, but Happy Thanksgiving anyhow!
– Sam Moore
The lazy farmer checking out a “modern” girl. (Oct. 3, 1938, Michigan Farmer in the author’s collection)