The Happy Farmer

This farm where I live
It’s poor and it’s small
But I’d rather live here
Than on no farm at all.

So here’s where I live
With my cow and my hens,
In a tumbledown barn
And these rickety pens.

It’s true I work hard
And the weeds they grow big,
They smothered my corn
And starved my poor pig.

This shiftless old barn
Had a sieve for a roof—
That the world it ain’t perfect
My farm is the proof.