Related quotes: When the fox licks his...

When the fox licks his paw let the farmer look after his geese.

Danish proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Taxes On The Farmer Feeds Us All

(traditional, adapted by ry cooder)
(d) - (a) - (e)
(a) we worked through spring and winter, through (d) summer and through (a) fall
But the mortgage worked the hardest and the (e) steadiest of us all
It (a) worked on nights and sundays, it (d) worked each holiday
(e) settled down among us and it never went (a) away
The farmer comes to town with his wagon broken down
The farmer is the man who feeds us all
If you only look and see I know you will agree
That the farmer is the man who feeds us all
(a) the farmer is the man, the farmer is the man
He buys on his credit until (e) fall
Then they (a) take him by the hand
And they (d) lead him from his land
And the (e) merchant is the man who gets it (a) all
The farmer is the man, the farmer is the man
He lives on his credit until fall
With the interest rates so high
Its a wonder he dont die
But the taxes on the farmer feeds us all
Well, the banker says hes broke and the merchant stops and smoke
But they forget that its the farmer that feeds them all
It would put them to the test if the farmer took a rest
And theyd know that its the farmer that feeds them all
The farmer is the man, the farmer is the man
Lives on his credit until fall
Well, his pants are wearing thin
His condition, its a sin
cause the taxes on the farmer feeds us all

song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad of Norman Jack and Billy

Summer days in sixty three
Happy carefree hours in play;
Three boys that could in no way know
The folly that would blight their day.

Jack turned out to meet big Norman
Finding bird's nests - couldn't wait;
They also called for smiling Billy,
Or 'Professor' to his mates.

Dusty tattered shoes that stepped
So lightly - not with careful tread,
Down the pebbled pathway, turning
Running through the wheat-field bed.

In the wood, much darker then,
But still they saw the nest on high;
The boy had almost reached his goal
Then from below he heard a cry.

The warning came too late, the farmer
Showed his power, they had a choice:
But not for them the 'cop-shop, ' no,
'We'll work, ' they answered with one voice.

And so the trio did, all wondering
How to pay the farmer back;
Plotting in their childish heads,
Norm, Professor and young Jack.

The cleaning was a tiresome chore,
For Bill the geese-pen was a pain;
But Jack was happy cleaning cars
And pouring polish down the drain.

Seeing this, his smile returning,
Billy gave the goose a kick;
'That'll teach the thing, ' he muttered,
'Pigs and geese they make me sick! '

When the farmer's rage subsided
And he thought they'd had enough,
Another lecture then he gave them,
Talk of trespassing and stuff.

'Off you go, and if I see you
Here once more you will regret
Ever coming on my land
You scallywags, go on now, get! '

'And close the gate as you go by,
You'll have the geese all running free; '
We sauntered off and I walked over
By the pen, as he'd bid me.

'Twas then the goose that Bill had kicked,
He saw his opportunity,
The whole flock joined in, just for fun,
And chased the lads and made them flee.

The farmer and his mate laughed hard,
The boys ran off at quite a lick;
The geese gave chase, and honked and pecked,
They looked like feathered lunatics!

Once free the trio heaved a sigh,
Red faced and cursing those two men;
But still they knew it was deserved,
'We'll never go near there again! '

Written March 1994

poem by John Carter Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Farmer's Daughter

I do come from miles away,
Ain't got no place to stay.
Glad to help you plow your fields,
Farmer's daughter.
Might be just a couple of days,
Clean up, rest, and be on my way.
Thank you, madam, much obliged,
Farmer's daughter.
So long, got to leave your land.
Many thanks, it was might grand.
I do hope to see you again,
Farmer's Daughter.
Farmer's Daughter.

song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beauty....... of what?

The earth wait's the sky drizzles
Seasons come and seasons go
With the smell of weather
The farmer chooses to decorate his farm

A farmer believes every leaf
Of the plant as its own
At every point protects and nurtures
The plants every leaf

The farmer that stood by
That plants every need and move
The plants have no respect for him
The farmer doesn't even find out
Who caste the evil eye
But all that's left is his ruined farm of hope
What was ones a living green
Is now nothing but flying sand?

What did I plant and what did I get?
What did I plant and what did it become?
Wonders the helpless farmer
Even when crying on the inside
Smiles just for its plants
A farmer believes every leaf
Of the plant as its own
At every point protects the plants every leaf

What did I want and what did I get?
Is all the farmer could think

poem by Kiara Davar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Me & The Farmer

Me and the farmer get on fine
Through stormy weather and bottles of wine
If I pull my weight hell treat me well
But if Im late hell give me hell
And thought its all hard work no play
Farmer is a happy crook
Jesus hates him everyday
cause jesus gave and farmer took
{wont he let you go? } probably no
{wont he let you go? } probably no
{why does he treat you so? } I just dont know
{why does he treat you so? } I just dont know
Me and the farmer like brother, like sister
Getting on like hand and blister
Me and the farmer
Hes chpped down shppe, planted trees
And helped the countryside to breathe
Ripped up fields, bullied flocks
And workded his workers right around the clock
It may seem strange but hed admit
Intentions arent exactlly true
And through God loves his wife a bit
He hates the farmer through and through
{wont he let you go? } probably no
{wont he let you go? } probably no
{why does he treat you so? } I just dont know
{why does he treat you so? } I just dont know
Me and the farmer like brother, like sister
Getting on like hand and blister
Me and the farmer
All things bright and beautiful
All creatures gr3eat and small
All weve got is london zoo
cause farmer owns them all

song performed by by Housemartins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I thought what I was good at doing was playing real simple guitar licks, since I'd cut my teeth on what Duane Eddy was doing; licks that were simple but had staying power.

quote by John Fogerty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There are no golden geese. There are only fat geese eating the food that could nourish more athletic opportunities for women.

quote by Donna A. Lopiano
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Geese Park

Geese Park,
Resting Place,
In Accra;
And, the President of Ghana,
John Evans Atta Mills was laid to rest.

Geese, peacocks, pigeons, doves and docks!
In a clean envirinment to pay their respect;
But, with a big pond around under tight security.

Face out of sand,
Words out of mind,
Works out of hands;
With mourners dressed in Red and Black! !
And, his resting place was at the Geese Park.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Exhortation About A Dog

the dog that licks my
feet
every morning after
i wake up
does not appeal to my
senses anymore

the dog that licks my feet every morning after i wake up does not appeal to my senses anymore

iii

the dog
that
licks my
feet
every
morning
after
i wake
up
does
not
appeal to
my
senses
anymore

but i must
allow it
still
because it is the law
between
the dog and me
and this
dogged
society

and so the dog still
licks my feet
every morning
and at night
i do not ponder about it
anymore
i do not ask
i have no questions
for asking

the dog sleeps with me
at night
in my bed
and spreads her legs like
a spoiled
prostitute
and she is confident
that i cannot kill her
because that is the
law between us
and dogs

vii

and society keeps guard
on this
and if i continue
having this dog's tongue lick
all over my body
and feed her well
and make her a part of my
life
till death do us part
then society
shall have a thousand hands
clapping
for my obedience
and fidelity

viii

my honest neighbor
(who does not want to be mentioned here says
that actually)
she's one kind of a typical
bitch

(and i will neither confirm nor deny
it, but please do not tell
anyone about it)

that is the law.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Working And Committed (Response)

it is not the plow,
but the farmer's back,
and the farmer's legs.
it is not the hoe,
but the farmer's hands,
and the farmer's heart,
working and committed!

it is not the political system,
but the moral fiber beneath.
not the moral fiber of judgement,
but that guided by human compassion.
for the back and the legs,
and the hands and the heart,
are the working cogs of freedom.

anything done without love will fail!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Ever So Tall Giant!

The farmer was busy ploughing,
With three fields left to do,
When a figure overpowering
Came suddenly in view...
The giant stepped across the gap
In seconds so it seemed,
The farmer thought he'd had a nap
And this whole thing was dreamed...

The farmer blinked yet stood his ground,
The giant's shadow loomed,
The giant's voice a booming sound...
The farmer thought, 'I'm doomed! '
'Don't be afraid, it's only me! '
The giant said amazed,
The farmer gulped quite suddenly,
For he was feeling dazed...

The giant smiled a lovely smile,
No bad thoughts on his mind,
The farmer stared up for a while,
His neck somewhat inclined...
'I'm from another planet, friend!
Just visiting, that's all...'
'Good God, will wonders never end?
How did you get so tall? '

'I'm only tall on planet Earth!
At home, I'm normal size!
I exercise for all I'm worth
And study so I'm wise...'
The farmer groaned, he'd hurt his neck!
'Your poor neck must feel numb!
I know I'm tall, but what the heck!
Wait till you meet my Mum! '

Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.

poem by Denis Martindale
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Fear

The host, he says that all is well
And the fire-wood glow is bright;
The food has a warm and tempting smell,-
But on the window licks the night.

Pile on the logs... Give me your hands,
Friends! No,- it is not fright...
But hold me... somewhere I heard demands...
And on the window licks the night.

poem by Harold Hart Crane
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Speak to him in his tongue.

A scientist told a farmer
About a pesticide’s use, saying
“Efficacy of it is indisputable
but its residue is incompatible”
The farmer took it to mean
that it is good to use and used it.

Alarmed, the scientist went to him
And warned him not to use it
And if he does, the consumers would suffer.
“Don’t use it. It saves the crop
but will kill the stomach of eaters”,
the scientist told him in plain words.
The farmer understood and threw it.
You be in his language to a layman.
23.12.2000, Pmdi

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Farmer's Bride (Cavatina Sequence) (In Answer To Charlotte Mew)

There was a farmer's wife, who was afraid
every day,
was driven wild with unmentioned fear;
always away
she was hidden beyond some lock and key,
never was gay
but doves gathered at her window sill,
many birds fluttered near at her will.

Without much love she was driven to work,
once she did flee
with the farmer and his labourers searching;
she was happy
while she was hiding in the large cornfield,
was from fear free,
later sneaked into the nearest church,
while drunk from the bar her husband did lurch.

Like a small animal she was hiding,
the minister
prayed for her but then took her back home,
quite sinister
acted the farmer as he whipped her,
did register
her into a lunatic asylum
and of his actions that was the sum.

The magpie's feathers did lie in her room
and she was gone
as if she had suddenly taken flight,
had moved on,
one day to a much better loving world,
but all alone
until his sudden death the farmer was,
they found him deep in a field of green grass.

[Reference: 'The Farmer's Bride' by Charlotte Mew.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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I've always said I want a farmer, not a hunter. Hunters go for the kill and they move on. A farmer nurtures; he watches things grow.

quote by Eva Longoria
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Farmer And The Stray Dog

the farmer arrives
bringing with him his
viand and rice
places it in the corner
of his hut,

the stray dog
gets in through its
sense of smell
and finds its catch
the farmer's
viand and rice

the catch is taken
far away

the farmer
is not angry for soon

a woman with a long
black hair arrives
bringing him
his broiled fish
and newly cooked rice

the woman is not
his wife
and there they are
under the shade of
the mango tree

the stray dog watches
as this story unfolds
to the final chapter
inside the hut
on such a very dark night

the dog is clever
and it knows the ending
the farmer is not angry
for dogs. mind you,
never tell.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Farmer's Song

Well I hate to say the farmer
Was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land
And taking what he needs
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind.
In the struggle for parity
Not one man's voice can sound
Cause the foundation
of the conglomerate
Is firmly in the ground.
Yeah, they want to feed the world
But for power and for greed
Then they'll cut off the supply
Until they get what they need.
Well I dreamed I saw a dust bowl
Where the farmers used to live
Earth was flying through the sky
It had nothing left to give
Tractors were burning
On the Whitehouse lawn
Just woke up one morning
And the farmers all were gone
I hate to say the farmer
Was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land
And taking what he needs.
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive.
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind.
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive.
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind.

song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Of His Kind