The farmer was defeated, he leaned against a gate
He’d known the harvest would be poor the crop was sown too late
The fertiliser too was wrong and that had caused a panic,
He’d used a super phosphate when he should have stayed organic.
A dry spell in the early spring along with March winds blowing
Had turned the land to desert dust and stopped the crop from growing
When at last the rain arrived it turned into a flood
Turning desert dried up fields into a sea of mud
The July sun did not arrive, the harvest was disaster
He cursed his men and whipped the mare to drive the creature faster
Yet all along things had gone wrong, the moral here of course is
You can’t improve a harvest cursing men and whipping horses
A bad upset can happen when you leave things just to chance
So cover all your options think them all through in advance
It’s therefore worth remembering advice that you’ve just read
If you want things to turn out well, then try to plan ahead
Average high school
Namesake
A mediocre
President
Imposing square box
Towering over small frame homes
Where Mothers wait behind closed doors
And Fathers return at dusk
Newspapers tucked under
In different signs and languages
Sport side up
In blue collar tradition.
French teacher listens
Eyes shifting from side to side
As we read
In our best French accent
Copied from movies
And old TV shows.
The Staff whisper
Lips hidden
Behind pieces of paper
To keep us from knowing
Secrets
But we know
The score
Girls to be Secretaries
Boys to be workingmen
And babies at eighteen.
School's out
A fight's on
Huge crowd
Forms a circle
To cheer their side
Smaller kid
Is a fighter
Crowd whistles in respect.
Police arrive
Clubs in hand
Go home they order
One by one
We drift away
Scattered by an ill wind
Searching for a place to call home.
Years go by
We learn to bend
We survived
And never spoke French.