Hay Bale Accidents

Pa once stacked ’em six too high,
Said, “Gravity’s a myth, that’s why!”
A gust came through, the bales took flight,
Knocked Uncle Jeb into the night.
Granny used one as a chair,
It crumbled fast–she’s still mid-air.
Cousin Lou played king on top,
Till the hay rebelled with a sudden flop.
Ma built a fort to hide and read,
Now it’s her tomb–or so we plead.
The preacher climbed for sermon flair,
But tumbled down with “Love thy hair!”
One bale rolled into town parade,
Took out floats and the lemonade.
We’ve tried ropes, straps, and chicken glue,
But hay’s got plans you never knew.
So stack with fear and always pray,
Lest bales strike back by end of day.

Alan Nafzger (editor@bohiney.com)

Last Updated on June 11, 2024 by Alan Nafzger