Tis' a great mystery who infected my dear son.
We'd gone to the farm but once we were done,
To the doctor we ran
Although
this wasn't the plan.

His little body was covered from head to toe,
A nasty rash we saw, but who was the foe?
It lasted for days, while he went commando,
Mom didn't want him itchy no moe.
Could it be the cow, no that was Davin he licked,

Maybe the Lama's cousin,

Or that scary turkey, he looked sicked.

Could it be the pony, he spoke so gently to?

No, I think it was that nasty, stinky goat that smelled worse than poo!!


The cutest baby cow.

The milking cow.

Actually the doctor thought it was maybe from the lawn. He thinks it's likely they had just fertilized that morning and Callin was allergic to one of the components. Who knows?!
WARNING: This poem is not for the weak stomached or faint of heart and maybe the word "poem" is even a stretch.