March 28, 2008

The Turdhurst

This is intended to be a word of encouragement to the downtrodden and abused of the world who have hit the proverbial “fan.” No matter how bad things get and how mixed up this world can seem; there is order and optimism at the end of the day. Renewal and rebirth are natural consequences of the human experience. I usually avoid cowboy poetry of the type of "jokes that rhyme" so I must have written this one when my standards were much lower. Still the same this is a bit of family history - my son Peter and I made this purchase together. We still have the old manure spreader and yes, it still works. In fact, my daughter Erika was once concerned that she would inherit it. She shouldn't worry. With the stock market low, gas prices high, crazy weather patterns across the world and truly unfortunate presidential candidates all the way around, maybe this poem is more current than I give it credit.

The Turdhurst

We saw it first in a Thrifty Ad - This “spreader” they called her,
Price was cheap, not too bad.

For all she was when we looked first - “Spreader” yes - but more,
Beheld we a genuine Turdhurst.

Now critters are seldom constipated, - The grass they eat, the grain, the hay,
It all stews and steams and is separated.

The good stuff in and the bad stuff out - Falling fast and falling straight,
To the ground, from whence it sprout.

The Turdhurst with rotor fans - Loaded up with odiferous stuff,
Moves its pile on rotating bands.

Right and left and up and down - Stuff from many a grunt and squirt,
Is widely scattered all around.

Once the manure the fan does fling - Nothing personal it may seem,
It all starts afresh, new life to bring.

When this troubled world leaves no doubt - The Turdhurst rotors you have hit,
Just start afresh and . . .don’t poop out.

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