Farmer: Trespassers, eh?
Fry: No, sir. We're amusement park patrons.
Farmer: Ooh, that's a wicked sinful place. Tilt-a-whirl's OK, but the rest is mighty wicked.
Leela: Our car broke down and we're out of oxygen. Can we borrow some?
Farmer: Huh, borry? Looky here, city girl, oxygen don't grow on trees.