Farmyard Antics 162 Poem by Phil Soar

I strolled into a farmyard
After thirteen weeks of drought
I couldn't hear a barn door slam
There was no-one else about
No cows around for milking
No pigs or goats or sheep
What was the farmer thinking
When he put them all to sleep
He thought it was the best thing
The least that he could do
The heat had left them in distress
What else was there to do?
I walked in isolation
And left a little sad
For my usual Farmyard Antics rhyme
Had turned out rather bad