Farmyard Antics 115 Poem by Phil Soar

Farmyard Antics 115



I strolled into a farmyard
Whilst the harvest was on-going
I trod in something nasty
Without ever really knowing
I took the smell around with me
Not knowing what it was
And when I left, I took it home
And then upset the boss


She wasn't happy!

Thursday, August 25, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: farm,funny
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