Let's Raise a Toast to Ramu

 In a quaint Indian village, sun-kissed and green,

Lived a farmer named Ramu, with a humorous sheen. With plough in his hand and a smile on his face, He tackled life's challenges with wit and grace.

Dawn to dusk, Ramu toiled the fertile land, With a cow by his side and a spade in his hand. But the mischievous monsoon, oh, what a joke, Played hide and seek, leaving Ramu broke.

"Rain, rain, go away," he'd plead with a grin, "Give me a break, let the sun have a spin!" But the raindrops danced and the mud did prance, And Ramu's umbrella did a rain-soaked dance.

His cow, dear Ganga, had quite the appetite, Munching on veggies left and right. Ramu sighed, "Ganga, oh queen of the feast, Must you eat my crops like they're a grand feast?"

Yet Ramu's laughter echoed through the air, As he chased Ganga, his troubles laid bare. "Here's a cow, they say, that's rather shrewd, Eating my plants like a gourmet food."

But life's humor didn't end with Ganga's feast, For pests and insects joined the great feast. Ramu scratched his head, "Ah, well, no harm done, At least my fields are having some fun!"

With sweat on his brow and dirt on his clothes, Ramu's resilience in adversity glows. He tilled the land, ploughed through despair, Turning life's challenges into a humorous affair.

When the sun blazed down with relentless heat, Ramu's witty retorts were ever so neat. "Dear sun," he'd quip, "please take a rest, My skin's turning toast, I must confess!"

Through hardships and trials, Ramu stood tall, Spreading laughter like a village's call. For life's challenges, he found a way, To laugh, to joke, to brighten the day.

So let's raise a toast to Ramu, the farmer bold, Whose humor and spirit never grow old. In the heart of a village, where life's stories bloom, Ramu's laughter lights up the room.