A seasonal poem, composed by a lady in Carharts and Sorrel boots:
THE NIGHT AFTER CHRISTMAS
Finally, the night after christmas, and here on the farm
Most are sleeping, just awaiting the alarm.
At four we'll get up and go to the barn
and check on the cows and set up the milking machines and shovel out the manure and wheel in new bedding and fix the water trough and start the truck and make sure the kids get up and the coffee's made and listen to the radio and see what milk is bringing today, and try to get warm.
It's hard to make poetry out of just plain hard work,
La di, La di, la la la
THE NIGHT AFTER CHRISTMAS
Finally, the night after christmas, and here on the farm
Most are sleeping, just awaiting the alarm.
At four we'll get up and go to the barn
and check on the cows and set up the milking machines and shovel out the manure and wheel in new bedding and fix the water trough and start the truck and make sure the kids get up and the coffee's made and listen to the radio and see what milk is bringing today, and try to get warm.
It's hard to make poetry out of just plain hard work,
La di, La di, la la la