The Farmer
There was a few seasons of bad weather,
Vegetable crops weren't doing quite so well,
Now the farmer was not in a good mood,
Neither could he help graze his animals,
On the plus side, the grass was supple green,
Perfect state to be, with the weather fine.
Farmer's animals were perfectly fine,
Not the vegetables, due to bad weather,
The farmer looked beyond the fields of green,
At his sacred land he knew so well,
Only the sight of it will lift his mood
And the scattered state of the animals.
Clouds get together, a thunderous mood,
The rain drips on the wrong crop soils, soaked fine,
Back in the pen to shelter the animals,
Keep them dry in this unholy weather,
Unhappy farm, he wants to graze them well,
Fallen tears would well up in his eyes green.
Blinking away the tears in his eyes green,
The sour farmer tries to console his mood,
Falling rain and tears mix water up well
Couldn't the season be so much more fine?
That's what you get with this northern weather,
Having to hide all of the animals.
They wanted to come out, his animals,
So they can chew on his supple grass green,
Never consoled by this type of weather,
Grumpy, grim thunders depressing his mood,
Sheep-dog not in action, also not fine,
Weather not consoling him quite so well.
Eventually, the weather improves well,
To feed, he may bring back his animals,
The sun is back out now, weather is fine,
Lifting up the spirits of his eyes green,
A brighter day now elevates his mood,
Tops his hat out to the sunny weather.
So now he feels well about the weather,
The animals are in a happy mood,
And all is thus fine, for the grass is green.