Phil Soar

Gold Star - 51,802 Points (28.06.1952)

Farmyard Antics 4 - Poem by Phil Soar

I strolled into a farmyard
And the smell was rather rank
They kept the silage in the yard
In a great big dirty tank
And when they spread it on the land
You better block your nose
The smell will linger in the air
Until the produce grows

Topic(s) of this poem: nonsense

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Poem Submitted: Friday, November 13, 2015

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