by Bob Grant
Farmer Judd worked in the mud to keep his garden pure,
Don’t mix or match, you’ll surely catch, disease he was for sure.
Sam the Slug worked in his mud but with a different mind,
For what he saw – there was no flaw – for Sam the Slug was blind.
For days on end Old Judd would bend to keep his seeds in sync,
He’d cuss, and fuss, when Sam moved on and set his seeds to link.
Corn in the morn – for Judd to scorn – the peas and carrots too,
Combining seeds, and weeds in one, as in his mouth he’d chew.
As time went on, and seeds he spun, Judd hated what he saw,
Until The Fair – and he was there – the countries biggest draw.
He took the credit – you can bet it – and the first to tell,
I am the one – see what I’ve done – my plants that make you well.