Farmyard Antics 6 Poem by Phil Soar

Farmyard Antics 6



I strolled into a farmyard
Just as the dawn arose
I walked and hid behind the barn
Where I could pick my nose
My father hates that sort of thing
His name is Arthur Growgie
If he should catch me doing this
He'd make me eat the bogie!

Wednesday, November 18, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: nonsense
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success