A Bumper Crop
by Robert Harrison
Friday, November 03, 2006
Rated "PG" by the Author.
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In the 1930's the threashing machines could be seen on English farms belting out gray smoke from their long chimney's. The farmhands covered in chaff and dust, and a pint of Rough Cider was bought for all at the end of the day.
Come, let us away to a place where we can
take our leisure, come each hard working man.
The harvest is in, and a bumper crop it has been,
Wheat, with ears the fullest we have ever seen.
So come my lads, let us away this fine evening,
away to the Dog and Partridge to drink and sing.
Two hundred bags I made it when I last did count.
Five seasons since we harvested such an amount
from Top Field, which has remained long in fallow.
Stooks dried well and the threshing's dust was shallow,
but throats are dry and ready for cider in the rough.
Come lads and let us sup till each has had enough.
Tomorrow’s the Sabbath, and many tonight will lurch,
though Sabbath heads will ache, we will attend church.
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|Reviewed by Sandie Angel
|The best time is the harvest. I'm so glad you did have your fun with that.
A very good write!!!
Sandie Angel a.k.a. Sandie May Angel :o)
|Reviewed by ~ Holly Harbridge (Reader)
|You're so humble you don't even know it,,, but you're a very good poet! God Bless, Holly|