A farmer has 200 hens, but no rooster, and he wants chicks. So, he goes down the road to the next farmer and asks if he has a rooster which he would sell.
The other farmer says, "Yeah, I've got this great rooster, named Randy. He'll service every chicken you got, no problem."
Well, Randy the rooster costs a lot of money, but the farmer decides he'd be worth it. So, he buys Randy. The farmer takes Randy home and sets him down in the barnyard first giving the rooster a pep talk, "Randy, I want you to pace yourself now. You've got a lot of chickens to service here, and you cost me a lot of money. Consequently, I'll need you to do a good job. So, take your time and have some fun," the farmer said, with a chuckle.
Randy seemed to understand, so the farmer points toward the hen house, and Randy took off like a shot. -WHAM!- Randy nails every hen in the hen house - three or four times, and the farmer is really shocked. After that the farmer hears a commotion in the duck pen, sure enough, Randy is in there. Later, the farmer sees Randy after a flock of geese, down by the lake. Once again - WHAM! He gets all the geese! By sunset he sees Randy out in the fields chasing quail and pheasants. The farmer is distraught - worried that his expensive rooster won't even last 24 hours. Sure enough, the farmer goes to bed and wakes up the next day, to find Randy dead as a doorknob - stone cold in the middle of the yard. Buzzards are circling overhead. The farmer, saddened by the loss of such a colorful - and expensive animal, shakes his head and says, "Oh, Randy, I told you to pace yourself. I tried to get you to slow down, now look what you've done to yourself."
Randy opens one eye, nods toward the buzzards circling in the sky and says, "Shhh, they're getting closer."
An old hillbilly farmer had a wife who nagged him unmercifully. From morning till night (and sometimes later), she was always complaining about something. The only time he got any relief was when he was out plowing with his old mule. He tried to plow a lot.
One day, when he was out plowing, his wife brought him lunch in the field. He drove the old mule into the shade, sat down on a stump, and began to eat his lunch. Immediately, his wife began haranguing him again. Complain, nag, nag; it just went on and on.
All of a sudden, the old mule lashed out with both hind feet; caught her smack in the back of the head. Killed her dead on the spot.
At the funeral several days later, the minister noticed something rather odd. When a woman mourner would approach the old farmer, he would listen for a minute, then nod his head in agreement; but when a man mourner approached him, he would listen for a minute, then shake his head in disagreement. This was so consistent, the minister decided to ask the old farmer about it.
So after the funeral, the minister spoke to the old farmer, and asked him why he nodded his head and agreed with the women, but always shook his head and disagreed with all the men.
The old farmer said: "Well, the women would come up and say something about how nice my wife looked, or how pretty her dress was, so I'd nod my head in agreement."
"And what about the men?" the minister asked.
"They all wanted to know if the mule was for sale."
A farmer was coming home from a hard day’s work, tired, thirsty and almost dehydrated. He stopped at a nearby house and asked for water.
A little boy who was home alone offered him lemonade instead of water. The more he drank, the more the boy told him he could have. He asked the boy if he was sure his mother would be pleased that he drank so much.
The boy replied, “You can have as much as you want because my dog died in it.”
Shocked and angry the man lifted the pitcher intending to use it to hit the boy who then shouted, "Oh no! No! Be careful or you'll break my mother’s bedpan!”
A bill collector knocked on the door of a country debtor.
"Is Fred home"? he asked the woman who answered the door.
"Sorry," the woman replied. "Fred's gone for cotton."
The next day, the collector tried again.
"Is Fred here today"?
"No, sir," she said. "I'm afraid Fred has gone for cotton."
When he returned the third day, he humphed, "I suppose Fred is gone for cotton again"?
"No," the woman answered solemnly. "Fred died yesterday."
Suspicious that he was being avoided, the collector decided to wait a week and investigate the cemetery himself. But sure enough, there was poor Fred's tombstone, with this inscription:
"Gone, but not for cotton."