David's Farm Blog

A short man walks in to the bar and begins to tell the bartender his story:

Well, he theths, I wath driving down thith country road, when I thaw a thine that thaid “horth for thale”. I jutht happened to be looking to buy a thorth, tho I turned up the driveway to thee about it.

The farmer wath quite nithe about thowing me the horth, but I made it clear to him that it had to be a healthy horth, not jutht any old thag back. The farmer thaid to me it wath a three year old mare. When we got to the horth, I athked the farmer to pick me up to thee the hortheth eyth, becauth I wath too thort. The farmer reluctantly picked me up to thee. I checked the hortheth eyth, and they theemed great, and the farmer put me down.

Nexthd, I athked the farmer to pick me up to thee the hortheth teeth. He wath even more reluctant thith time, but he did it. I grabbed the hortheth lipth, lifted them, and tapped on the teeth to be thure they we tholid. They were, and the farmer put me down.

We thtepped back thowards the hortheth hind quarter, looking towardth hith head, when I athked the farmer to thee the hortheth twat. The farmer grabbed me, picked me up, and thtuck me in the hortheth bum. Then he pulled me out and thtood me up, right at the back thide of the horth.

Well, I wath in thock. I wath covered in poo, and some got in my mouth. As I thpit it out, I thaid to the farmer, “Let me rephrathe that. Can I thee her gallop thlowly?”