I used to graze in Montana, and the nitrates in the soil gave the grass a bitter taste. One day it was gone. I'd crossed over into Alberta! Mmm, mmm good.
On my migratory routes, I dread the taste of Raritan swampwater, and long for the cool, clean St. Lawrence. Maybe New Jersey and Quebec aren't fully representative of their nations, but Canada rocks.
I read about that poor English goat that got screwed and said, why couldn't it be me? Then the SPCA might find me a nice home in Canada where the littered tin cans taste better.
My life changed when I crossed the Pacific on a Chinese freighter. Vancouver shit is like none in the old country!
I was penned up in Brisbane till they transferred me to the Toronto Zoo. Let me tell you, that soil there tasted so good, I ate a tunnel out to freedom, and am now freely rampaging over lower Ontario.
