Economist at Fayetteville, Arkansas
It was a sunny afternoon
At story-telling time.
Old Kaspar puffed a long cigar
and sipped his rum-and-lime,
While Peterkin and Wilhelmine
Looked at the panoramic screen.
They saw the rolling countryside
Below the setting sun,
Where many red and white men died
Before the West was won—
When cowboys rode across the plains
And robbers stalked the wagon trains.
But where the scalping parties lurked
In days of long ago
Were furtive men with glasses trained
Upon the fields below,
Where tractors moved across the plain
Among the strips of growing grain.
“Now tell us what it’s all about!”
The little children cried.
“It is the Federal Crop Control,”
Old Kaspar then replied.
“It regulates the wheat supply
To keep its market prices high.
“The men with glasses on the hills
Are checking off the plots
To see that farmers plant no more
Than Washington allots.
The Planners take the greatest care
To grant to each his proper share.”
“It seems a very perfect Plan,”
Said little Wilhelmine.
“It does indeed,” Old Kaspar sighed,
“The best in seventeen.
But still we need some more, I hear,
To solve the Surplus problem, dear.”
