Bringing
Home the Hay.
‘ Clankity, clank:
clankity, clank’, the haybogey on the road.
‘ Get up there
Sherman’ Jim calls to the Shire, making light the load.
While I on top was
lulled asleep by the smell of hay and horse,
The first was so much
sweeter than, the second one of course.
Those balmy days of
boyhood, a time long, long since gone.
Like memories
brought back to mind, in the words of an old folk song.
When a minute
passed like an hour, and that self-same hour like a day,
When taking the
crop, at a leisurely trot, back to the farm in Bray.
‘ Hike up there
Sherman’ young Jim calls out as the
haycock starts to slide.
‘ Hold up there
Sherman’ now shouts Jim,‘ or I’ll blinkingwell flay your hide’.
‘ You, watch that
hay’ the tailor roars ‘its clogging all up the shop’
‘I’m sorry mister’
cries young Jim, ‘ but the blinking horse won’t stop’.
The hay it slips,
right off the back, and blows all round the place,
A passing car
swerves much too far, the driving a disgrace,
In doing so it hits
a post, which falls down like a tree,
The shouts from
boys, the almighty noise, has now awoken me.
The farmer’s boy
stood mouth agape, ‘Mother of God’ Jim cries,
The horse merely,
as he could not see, swished his tail at flies.
‘Now what the hell
’ a sounding bell, as the Fire Brigade turns up,
The lamppost wires,
have started fires, ‘I think I’ve seen enough’.
Old Tom the farmer, having been told, on arriving at the spot
He laughed so hard,
his jaw was jarred, and the fire was getting hot.
I slipped away,
amid the affray, such a catastrophe,
Now I’ll just add,
I was very glad, to get back home for tea.
Suffice to say,
that was the day, when I at last grew up,
No more I lazed
about the farm, that Summer was quite enough.
The farming life,
was not for me, I could not stand the pressure,
So an office job,
to earn a few bob, I became a man of leisure.
----------Mike-----------
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