Farmyard Antics 64 Poem by Phil Soar

I strolled into a farmyard
The day had started well
Until, that is, I cleaned the barn
And recognised a smell
The dung had quite a stench to it
It wasn't all that funny
I wondered how the farmer copes
Whenever it gets sunny
The heat that's generated
By the summer sun is great
And so I made a run for it
Before it got too late
My nose is not that tolerant
Of the farmyard aroma
It even gets behind my eyes
And plays with my glaucoma
By the time I reached the hillside
And tried to breathe fresh air
I thought that I was going to faint
And be sick everywhere.