Lawns to rake, fields to harrow,
This time of year I always find,
Iím busy cleaning up the mess,
That winter left behind.
As I hook the harrows to the tractor,
Lacy watches from her run,
As do the horses lounging by the barn,
Soaking up the morning sun,
They all clearly think Iím crazy,
If Iíve got nothing better to do,
To waste a perfect morning,
Scattering horse and puppy pooh.
Other articles by Mike Puhallo