Three birds approached Joe the Farmer
Last summer
Give us some feed
We are famished
They pled
I’m afraid I have no feed
But seeds for the field
He pled
Let’s have the seeds
We are hungry
They pled
Seeds for the field?
Lemme sow them
So we reap in winter
He pled
No, we might just die before winter
They pled
So, Joe’s seeds with the birds parted
Alas, winter came and birds returned
Give us some seed
They pled
I have neither feed
Nor seed
Nor field
He pled
You slothful hand
What did you during summer?
Mourning my seeds
And feed
And field
He pled
So goes
Joes
Woes
As he bled