by Anna Skorczeski
To get free parking our car needed one moreth
The dumbo at the lot wouldn’t ride in as our fourth
On the road walking in, an amateur spewed up her guts
We knew good and well that wouldn’t happen to us
So in we marched proudly, Gloria leading the way
A malt from Kiwanis started our day
Then direct to a stand boasting pork on a stick
It wasn’t too delicious, and bordered on ick
Casomorphins beckoned us to the fried cheese stand
Where a catastrophe nearly got well out of hand
A blur of hands and food, and then a terrible sound
A tray of golden cheese curds hitting the ground
Buttery corn that you eat off the cob
Glad selling miracle mops isn’t my job
A paper cone of cookies, from Martha comma Sweet
To get to the milk we had to move our feet
All you can drink milk is now a full dollar
“It was 25 cents 2 years ago!” was our angry holler
The oink booth monster was disgustingly big
1220 pounds is too much for a pig
We cleared up a few facts about numbers of ears of corn
While making the boy in the Ag Building very forlorn
With bursting full bellies, the last stop of our day’s plan
We marveled at the absorbency offered by the Chamois Man
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