TOMATOES, THE BAD CROP

This years tomatoes, did not attain the size, big,

The foul taste was like an ancient, rotten, pine twig,

The plants were of bad seed,

I think bred from a weed,

Our labors been lost, the fruits aren't fit for a pig.

HARD TIMES ON THE FRUIT FARM

My grapes have gone sour, and my berries have been defiled,

By some sort of a blue stink bug, that came out of the wild,

My fruit farm has gone funky,

I'm one unhappy monkey,

I have no sources of income, and my partner's with child.

APPLES FOR DEAR MEAT

Benny went out to pick apples, this day,

So the winter famine, Benny could keep away,

But, the apples were gone,

Ate by a doe and her fawn,

So, Benny chews on venison all day.