Ah, the smell of the country,
unfresh fresh air,
resonates like the farming news at ten,
dung, dung, dung, dung,
excrement, fertilizer, manure,
lathered all over the filthy fields,
spread thick like beef extract on baps.
I lift handfuls of it and hold it to my nose,
breathe in the beautiful bovine bouquet,
celebrate the goodness of the soil
before throwing up in the hay.
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