Don’t tell me you didn’t

I’ve been home for a week, and no matter how many times I click my heels together and say, “There’s no place like Alaska in the summertime”, I still find myself in near triple digit temperatures with 95% humidity. But…there’s also no place like home…home, home on the farm. You probably know what’s coming, so I’m going to go ahead and give it to you. Here goes. Me me me me meeeeee…

Home, home on the farm


where the rabbit drinks lemonade. Where the chickens roam free


and I’m sure they’ll agree, that it’s ninety degrees in the shade.

Home, home on the farm


where the cats


all have it made. Where the dog catches mice,


or she did once or twice. And it’s ninety degrees in the shade.

Home, home on the farm


where the guineas are all on parade. And bless her sweet heart,


the goat rides a cart, cause it’s ninety degrees in the shade.

Home, home on the farm

where the grandkids bathe in the yard.


They do it at night and it might not seem ri-i-i-i-i-i-i-ght

But- when- it’s- ninety, it’s called ‘avant-garde’. (You can’t tell me you didn’t sing that.)


4 thoughts on “Don’t tell me you didn’t

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s