Farmyard Antics 95 Poem by Phil Soar

Farmyard Antics 95



I strolled into a farmyard
All I could smell was dung
I was standing in a dark brown mess
I guess that was just wrong
My boots were awfully sticky
And squelched when I strode on
I think I'll leave and wash them
And come back when the dung has gone

Thursday, July 14, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: farm,funny
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