He Always Wanted to Buy the Farm

A little flock of chickens
A hive of honey bees
A tiny herd of goats
And an orchard with fruit trees.

He always wanted to buy the farm,
Leave his mark upon the land,
This is written on his tombstone,
Where he’s buried in the sand.

A little milk and honey,
Candles and some soaps,
Eggs and cheese were the keys
To his happiness and hopes.

He always wanted to kick the bucket
As long as it was full of heavy cream
Those who doubted him can SUCK IT
As he eternally rests in his dream.

Never saw it coming, his demise,
Was watching the clouds, in the skies,
Didn’t see the waffle iron stalking:
Now he feeds the worms instead of talking.

He wanted to be one with the Earth,
Though he sometimes played with fire,
He always knew what he wanted to do
When it was time to retire:

A little flock of chickens
A hive of honey bees
A tiny herd of goats
And an orchard with fruit trees