Tomorrow is our last day at the horse farm in Spain, so I thought it would be nice to put my final thoughts about the place into a lovely rhyme. Enjoy.
(best if recited with a bounce, preferably to the aroma of fresh manure)
Wakin up early.
Gotta go to the farm.
Suit up in dirty clothes.
Won´t do me no harm.
Step-two to the barn.
Horses goin crazy.
Want their morning feed:
hay, water, and grain-zies.
After they eat
they cool their jets.
Time to muck the stalls,
takes two hours at best.
Poop monsters poop monsters
how you haunt my dreams.
You poop so much
I want to scream.
Out with the yuck
and in with the fresh.
Can´t get no satisfaction
cuz tomorrow´ll be a mess.
Breathe in breathe out
brush off the hay.
Wash hands, change clothes,
stank´s here to stay.
I hope this poem expressed my love(and by love I mean hate) for this farm and shoveling horse poop.
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hahaha oh nay, i think the fumes are starting to get to you. sorry to hear you're in a bit of a shitty situation (poop pun!) but i'm sure things will start to look up. miss you!
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