I LEAVE:
To my wife: My overdraft at the bank. Maybe she can explain it.
To my son: Equity on my car. Now he will have to go to work to meet the payments.
To my banker: My soul. He has the mortgage on it anyway.
To my neighbor: My clown suit. He will need it if he continues to farm as he has in the past.
To the farm credit corporation: My unpaid bills. They took some real chances on me. I want to do something for them.
To the junk man: All my machinery. He's had his eyes on it for years.
To my undertaker: A special request. I want six implement dealers and six fertilizer dealers for pallbearers. They are used to carrying me.
To the weatherman: Rain, hail and snow for the funeral please. No sense in having good weather now.
To the grave digger: Don't bother. The hole I'm in now should be big enough.
And lastly
To the monument maker: Set up a jig for the epitaph. "Here lies a farmer who has now properly assumed all of his obligations."
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