My dad has told stories of when he was a boy.
he talks of a "Joker", a favorite toy.
It wasn't a tractor. it wasn't a truck.
But a lttle of each, a strange looking duck.
Part Dodge and part Chevy, part Case and part Deere,
Pieces hobbled together. What was what, wasn't clear.
It could plow a field, and cut down the hay.
Bring the boys swimming and plow snow from the drive-way.
My dad came to visit, imagine my pride,
When I took him outside to show off my new "ride".
His eyes opened wide, I thought he was pleased.
"What is that!" were his words, I thought "Oh Dad, you're a tease."
"Why, a joker, of course", a big grin on my face,
"It's a real beauty." (Perhaps not in this case.)
She plows and she cuts, she loads and she rakes,
The joker on my farm is all that it takes.