A crafty old farmer, near the edge of his land,
Had a favorite spot for the mischief he planned,
With a view of a lake and its sandy white beach
Surrounded by orchards of apple and peach.
Three lovely young ladies, impelled by the heat,
Had stopped by the water to dangle their feet.
With no one around to ogle and gape,
They peeled off their dresses like skin from a grape.
They failed to take notice, that hidden by shade,
Was the farmer who watched while they frolicked and played.
"What a great day," he chortled with glee,
"I'll try to get closer and see what I see."
Seeking to peek at firm breasts and plump tails,
He picked up a pair of rusty old pails.
The ladies, by now, well aware of the peeper
Dove under to hide where the water was deeper,
When they rose to the surface in goose pimpled skin,
They spotted the farmer who said with a grin,
"Don't be alarmed! It's no leering sinner;
I'm only bringing the gators their dinner!"
by Tom Murray
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Tom Murray is a retired computer geek living in Princeton, NJ (in relative tranquility) with his wife and two man-eating miniature dachshunds. He finds that life in a college town is highly conducive to writing poetry while pursuing his advanced studies in Applied Curmudgeonry. Look for his soon-to-be-published book Passive Aggression for Fun and Profit.