I Leave: To my wife, my overdraft at the bank--maybe she can explain it.
To my Banker, my soul--he has the mortgage on it anyway.
To my neighbor, my clown suit--he'll need it if he continues to farm as he has in the past.
To the county agent, fifty bushels of corn to see if he can hit the market--I never could.
To the junk man, all my machinery--he's had his eye on it for years.
To my undertaker, a special request--I want six implement and fertilizer dealers for my pall bearers. They're all used to carrying me.
To the weatherman, rain and sleet and snow for the funeral, please--no sense having good weather now.
To the gravedigger--don't bother. The hole I'm in should be big enough.
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