Fresh air! let’s walk, not drive or catch a bus.
Particulates? The kitchen’s air is cleaner.
The open road! the unknown routes before us.
Out there the world is growing harder, meaner.
Think what we’ll see! Those ever-changing views!
I’m sure there’s something better on TV.
And birdsong always was the poet’s Muse.
The radio has much more charm for me.
You’ll feel the careless wind caress your face.
Indoors I’m far less likely to get wrinkled.
More exercise will give your body grace.
And leave my clothing muddied, torn and crinkled.
The clean smell of ploughed earth! The scent of rain!
They’re spreading slurry on the fields today.
What are we waiting for? Can’t you explain?
This chair is blissful; please, just go away.
