Whoopee Ti-Yi-Yo, Git Along, You Little Haitians!
Aw, what a picture.
There was this cowboy, all hat and spurs and chaps (woah there, Village People!)
Well sir, that cowboy was a-leanin' out of his saddle like a cottonwood tree leans when there's a Blue Norther a-blowing across the dad-gum plains.
And he was a-swingin' his rope at a couple of muley Haitians who had broken away from the herd and lit out fer daylight.
It's a hard life down on the border. The place is just a-runnin' wild with human livestock from every corner of the underdeveloped world.
What's a cowboy to do?
Why, drive 'em north, that's what.
As the pandemic, low wages, fentanyl and general laziness continue to crimp the supply of American workers, a big herd of Haitians should go for a good price in Chicago or Boston or Queens, New York City, where restaurants owners need meat on the hoof to chop vegetables, fry eggs, make pizzas, wait tables and carry out the dad-gum trash.
Round up them Haitians, cowboy, and point 'em north to the nursing homes and landscaping companies of Michigan. Take 'em to the chicken-pluckin' plants of Arkansas and the cat food canneries of Iowa.
Don't worry about feedin' the Haitians on the trip. If dad-gum longhorn cattle can live on dad-gum grass, then so can dad-gum Haitians, dad-gum it!