There was a farmer, from the land of long winters
He grew many things; potatoes, grain, cows for milk, and sheep
But his most important crop was flowers, five plants, each unique
All that he grew he cared about, but his flowers he loved
Now the other crops are gone, and the land is all sold
But the flowers remain
From them he has more than five times five twice
And he loves them all, down to the flowers’ flowers’ flowers.
Do you know this farmer?
(Grandpa, if you read this, I already know it doesn’t rhyme and that’s ok)
He grew many things; potatoes, grain, cows for milk, and sheep
But his most important crop was flowers, five plants, each unique
All that he grew he cared about, but his flowers he loved
Now the other crops are gone, and the land is all sold
But the flowers remain
From them he has more than five times five twice
And he loves them all, down to the flowers’ flowers’ flowers.
Do you know this farmer?
(Grandpa, if you read this, I already know it doesn’t rhyme and that’s ok)
