Farmyard Antics 126 Poem by Phil Soar
Farmyard Antics 126
I strolled into a farmyard
There was nothing else to do
I wandered round for hours
Watching Livestock passing through
I couldn't help but marvel
At the way the farm was worked
No time for sitting drinking
No job was ever shirked
It's a wonder that the scant rewards
Make farmers carry on
But then, where would the public be
If all the farms were gone?
Thursday, November 17, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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8/25/2025 12:32:38 PM # 1.0.0
