Farmyard Antics 152 Poem by Phil Soar
Farmyard Antics 152
I strolled into a farmyard
On a lovely summer day
Grinning as I watched the goats
Playing in the hay
And as I strolled around the place
I couldn't help but think
Why do we say'I'm sweating like a pig
And need a drink? '
The pigs I know are sweatless
At least, that's how it looks
The only time they look too hot
Is as the bacon cooks!
Monday, August 21, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: humour
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4/25/2024 6:56:25 AM # 1.0.0.1119
