One of the key pledges made by Donald Trump prior to his Election win was to make America great and, indeed, healthy again.
Well, now, with his seat in the Oval Office as secure as my granny's seat by the fire, is our chance as Irish farmers to get out there and convince him that a healthy America is one that dines on Irish beef.
Irish beef is the best, most nutritious food in the world. And you don't need me shouting that from the rooftops to prove it.
Just sample Irish beef yourself. You will find invigoration and strength in every mouthful.
Around these parts, many years ago, there was once a famously strong farmer who went by the name of Tommy Monaghan.
You see, Tommy was small in stature, but huge in strength.
He mightn't have looked it, but our Tommy was probably the strongest man in the world - only he'd have been too modest to say so himself.
It was said that his strength came from airy living and nothing but plates of beef stacked up as high as the Golden Pages.
Tommy lived up in an area of ground known locally as 'the devil's armpit'. It was an inhospitable spot that lies somewhere between the Cork and Kerry border.
The exact location of Tommy's farm was hard to define, for few maps of the area were ever made... but let's not let the details get in the way of a good yarn.
Regardless, one day, a bus carrying a load of German tourists heading for Killarney got lost in the fog and ended its journey halfway up the devil's armpit.
With no room to turn and precious little view of their surroundings, the driver decided it would be best just to sit tight and hope that help came along.
Just then, Tommy was returning from the butcher's in Macroom by bicycle and wandered up to the driver's window to find out why a bus carrying German tourists was blocking his path.
The driver explained that he had gotten lost in the fog and that he had now realised they were in a most perilous position, surrounded by cliff edges and snow-covered peaks. And this was in mid-July it has to be noted.
Anyhow, Tommy simply burst out laughing, for he had a peculiar sense of humour. He ordered the bus to swing around, suggesting that all stay on board for their own safety.
The driver was naturally dismayed and insisted that there wasn't enough road to undertake such a dangerous manoeuvre, but Tommy wouldn't hear of it.
"Sure, why would you need road when you have me."
Anyhow, the bus driver did what Tommy had suggested, and in areas where the bus needed a little support, Tommy put his shoulder to the wheel and gently lifted and supported the bus with strength that defied all logic.
With the bus turned around and faced for Killarney once again, all onboard were astonished at the strength of the little Irishman.
"Where in heaven's name did you get such strength? one passenger shouted out from an open window.
Tommy simply waved his big bag of prime butcher's beef up at the awe-struck tourist. He didn't have to say another word.
For it was clear to all that Tommy's strength came from good Irish beef and little else.
And as the bus moved on all left were left awestruck by the strength of young Tommy Monaghan.
If Donald Trump does indeed want to make America great again (again), he will need to get on board with Tommy Monaghan and Irish beef.