The Farming Year

The furrows glistened silvery With the crows astride their brow Looking for the wiggling worms Turned up by six share plough Seagulls also joined the feast Calling out loudly as they flew Following quickly behind the plough As it turned over pastures new The farmer sat oblivious To the cacophony of sound Created by the flocks of birds As they settled on the ground His mind was on the job in hand Keeping his furrows straight And struggling to stay awake From his evenings working late His wife would come at six with tea And scone bread spread with jam And sometimes if he was lucky It could be some breaded ham Then off again into the cab With a wave to say goodbye The field it must be finished soon As they were going to plant some Rye How quickly change the seasons From the Spring unto the Fall Suddenly the winters here And gone is the Cuckoo call Christmas round the corner Time for a well earned rest Having all the family over Will put his patience to the test Then Spring is soon upon us Time to sow the seeds once more And hope for a better harvest Thank God the winters o’er