The Tunbridge World's Fair

I went to the Tunbridge World’s Fair Walked among the salt of the earth while there So proud of the work they had done And of the ribbons they won The pigs and the piglets were squealing; the Morgan’s they were appealing The cows they appeared to not care The roosters were strutting; the sheep’s wool they were cutting A child costumed like her goat what a pair I work in a room with no window Fresh is not what I would call the air The building is old; probably full of black mold And the stress sometimes more than I can bare I guess I envy the farmer Watching their crops and livestock grow Milking the cows; feeding the sows And all of the other seeds that they sow A farmer’s life I know is not easy The end for the livestock makes me quite queasy On my grandmother’s farm; the butcher’s presence would cause such alarm Her breathing would get very wheezy Still I would like more time in fresh air For animals and crops I could care Since it can’t be; it’s not meant for me I can feel a part once a year at the fair