Farmyard Antics 28 Poem by Phil Soar

I strolled into a farmyard
Around about mid-day
A massive barn conversion
Was clearly underway
The building was an outer shell
With scaffold all around
As brand new rooms were taking shape
Above and on the ground
The animals were standing still
As work was done in haste
The cows and pigs had puzzled looks
The sheep thought 'What a waste'
Rooms for ailing travellers
To rest their aching backs
Old barns turned into resting places
Papering over cracks
And when I left this farmyard
I felt a little guilt
I'd stolen several window frames
To stop it being built
I strolled out of that farmyard
A smile upon my face
I'd led the cows into the barn
And they shit over the place