A gardener, who liked to spend <br />most days and also the weekend <br />out in his garden near the town <br />was in a way a real clown, <br />his humour served him happily <br />and the occasional enemy. <br /> <br />One Saturday while pulling weeds <br />before he'd plant the season's seeds, <br />he glanced toward the garden's fence <br />and was confronted with a sense <br />of dejà-vu when he discovered <br />that in the thistles someone hovered. <br /> <br />It was a man who spread his legs <br />and laid what seemed to be brown eggs. <br />The gardner ran to see his hens <br />(the fellow sat still by the fence) <br />and grabbed an egg and placed with care <br />it under cheeks that sat there, bare. <br /> <br />And then he hid behind the coop <br />until the man gave up his stoop. <br />He took the egg out of the shade <br />and said 'I can't believe I laid <br />a real egg, this is unreal <br />it does have wonderful appeal.' <br /> <br />Each day he came and crouched to lay <br />into the growing grass of May <br />his movements and each time he found <br />another egg, there on the ground. <br />He knew his troubles would be over <br />and bought a patch of luscious clover <br />invited all his friends and mates <br />from town and from some other states <br />to demonstrate his special powers. <br /> <br />The crowds had waited there for hours, <br />a band was playing 'Golden Goose' <br />and channel nine announced the news. <br />In view of millions there he sat <br />right near the fence and then he shat. <br /> <br />But out came for the world to see <br />in Nature's soft green gallery <br />a sausage of the usual kind. <br />The fellow, when he looked behind <br />and saw what graced the spot marked X <br />was poo and not the hoped for eggs <br />he suffered there and then a stroke <br />and did remain forever broke.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/brown-eggs/
