|Jim Jacobs owned a plot of ground;
He fenced it carefully around
And spread it thick with rich manure,
Its fertile nature to insure.
He ordered packs of garden seeds,
Of nice, clean strain and free from weeds;
He worked away with rake and hoe
And formulated bed and row,
Then sat him down to rest his back
And read Hostetter's almanac.
For Jim was ancient in his ways,
He went by seasons, signs and days;
From February until June
His acts were governed by the moon.
The while the spring was clear and fair
He lingered in his easy chair,
And feared to sow his crop of peas
Because the sign was in the knees.
He frittered golden hours away
And waited for St. Patrick's day,
And then he could not plant a spud
Unless he slopped around in mud.
When favored by the Zodiac,
The frigid weather held him back,
Till he lost out on stringless beans
And failed on raising mustard greens.
While waiting for the moon to phase
The time went by for early maize,
And summer came and then the fall
And Jacobs raised no crop at all.
Verdigris Valley Verse
(Coffeyville, Kansas: The Journal Press. 1917)