Petersen: Limericks to live by | TheFencePost.com

Petersen: Limericks to live by

National Ag month recognizes that without farming and ranching, humans would have nothing to eat or wear. Here's a few limericks that showcase (sorta) how cowboys, farmers and plain pig farmers get the job — of feeding and clothing the world — done.

LIMERICKS TO LIVE BY…

The lodgings of cowboys are humble,

They live in a terrible jumble

But they thrive on the dirt

Old cowboys don't die, they just crumble.

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Cowboys are born without diapers

Midst sagebrush and cactus and vipers

So, they have to be tough

Which may be enough

To make them the world's loudest gripers.

A cowgirl knows just what she should do

And several things that she wouldn't do

But, by gosh, to her credit

Though she never has said it,

There really ain't much that she couldn't do.

A sheepherder's wagon is small

Just a bunk and a stove and a wall.

He can cook and can sleep

And can tend to his sheep

But overnight guests? Not at all.

A pig farmer spilled booze from his flagon

As a sow sidled up to the wagon

She lapped up the liquid

Like any good pig would

And both got quite a big jag on.

Cowboys like coffee that's black

And sturdy enough to attack

They brew it and brew it

Until they can chew it —

It tastes just like tar and shellac.

Oh, a diet of biscuits and beans

Can become an explosive of means

And that may be why

When old cowboys die

They find only tatters of jeans.

"Oh, good," said the dumb little chickens

"We hear we're the very best pickin's"

But when they were chosen

They ended up frozen,

And later became finger-lickin's.

The pig was an absolute charmer

She used all her wiles on the farmer

But he's keeping books

So, despite her looks

She now wears a wrap labeled Armor.

A cowboy who seems to be prancing

Retreating and later advancing

As though in some pain

I'd like to explain

It's just his idea of dancing.

A seven-foot tall lady angler

Fell in love with a bucking horse wrangler

They attempted to court

But the bunk was so short

In the morning, they couldn't untangler.

A coyote pursuing a hunch

Spotted some sheep in a bunch

"Oh yum" he exclaimed

As he wounded and maimed

"I'll have a sheep sandwich for lunch."

The people who dearly love chicken soup

Have probably not cleaned a chicken coop

Do you think they would savor it?

If they knew that their favorite

Was started among all that chicken poop?

With branding-iron from the fire

The cowboy tripped over a wire

He plumb missed the calf

And hit poor old Alf

Who jumped over the moon, only higher.

To brand, take an iron bar

And heat it red hot in the far

And throw down a calf

And then with a laugh

Singe his pore little rear.

Vegetarians who tweet

Scoff at all red meat

They gain their protein

Ingesting black beans

Their gassiness smells real sweet?

Clyde hunkered down on his heels

And suddenly broke out in squeals

The spurs he'd forgotten

Went clean through his bottom

Now he stands when taking his meals.

There once was a Vegan named Vance

Who assumed a belligerent stance

"Bugs," he said,

"Sure ain't red."

Now he eats only flies and ants.

A heel fly badly off course

Found the nose of a lone cowboy's horse;

The horse took offence

And hither and hence

Flew the cowboy with words rather coarse.

The ranchwoman got out her jars,

And peeled and pickled for hours

Which made her so tired

She thought she'd expired,

But revived after nine whiskey sours.

Should a vegetarian die

In a coffin he will lie

Dead forever

Although he's never

Eaten red meat … or tried.

Though little in life is for sure

Three things on the ranch will endure

Sticky mud to your thighs

Ugly bugs every size

And a steady supply of manure.