Daybreak on the Farm
The Rhode Island Red rooster crows from the fence near by,
The day is breaking in the far eastern sky.
His cock-a-doodle-doo is meant to wake up the farm,
He doesn’t use much grace and very little charm.
He has spent many years doing his thing,
His crows seem to be louder in the early spring.
With his flock of hens he struts during the day,
Anxiously he puts his big red cone on display.
We carry our water from the spring down below,
Returning home, up hill, the going was slow.
Most homes get their water from a spring or a well,
There is no fresher or purer water that you could smell.
We usually caught rain water in a number two tin tub,
This water was used for the dirty clothes we would scrub.
We would hang them out on a line to dry,
Our dryer was furnished by the sun in the sky.
Life on the farm was usually good,
Until that old rooster crowed from the fence where he stood.
Sometime I threw my shoe at that old rooster,
If I could only hit him, it would be a morale booster.
I remember we jumped from the barn roof above,
With Mama’s good sheets we wanted to fly like a dove.
Like Superman we flew, but like a rock straight to the ground,
Splat was usually our only sound.
We had no broken bones, but we were plenty sore,
The very next day we came back for more.
Finally Mama caught us with her torn up sheets,
We knew then we would all have hot seats.
©2008 Lynn B Glover