I love old barns, the wood all weathered
Always imagine a couple of horses there, tethered.
Big ones, small ones, no matter what size
In the country, you're sure to see one just over the rise
I love old barns, painted deep red
When inside you know the cows are well fed
And up in the cupola, painted white,
Out comes the pigeons, taking off in flight.
I love old barns, filled with hay
With a couple of red hens getting ready to lay
And with them struts the rooster all speckled black and white
They'll return to the hen house before it is night.
I love old barns, no lonager in need
Where many a horse and many a cow have taken their feed
But to the owner I really must pray
Please do not let it rot and tumble away.
I love old barns, way out of town
Where I can drive and dream, and always slow down
For to this day I'll always remember
When I left the farm it was late September
Comments about this poem (Old Barns by Roy Kieling )
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