Farmyard Antics 163 Poem by Phil Soar

Farmyard Antics 163



I strolled into a farmyard
At this special time of year
The Lambs had gone for slaughter
The turkeys howled with fear
They never welcomed Christmas
It meant their sure demise
And when they reached the Abattoir
They had to close their eyes

Thursday, December 13, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: farm,humour
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