The Barn at Willoughby's Farm
I have this recurring nightmare where
I'm wandering round a farm,
It's out in the middle of nowhere, just
A milking shed and a barn,
An ancient tractor sits by the house
But the blinds are pulled and drawn,
And it seems that the farmer left this place
Before Jacinth was born.
But ever I see her stand and wave
As she climbed aboard the bus,
Off for a life of adventure, not
Stuck here, like one of us,
She'd always wanted the country life
Away from the city's swell,
The day that she waved goodbye to us
Was my first real glimpse of hell!
‘Once I've settled, I'll write, ' she said,
‘Or else, there's always the phone;
I'll try to ring on a Friday night
When I'll catch you all at home! '
But she didn't ring, and she didn't write
And a month went by so soon,
She'd left in the middle of March, at night,
And then it was almost June!
I called on out to the agency
The office was next to the zoo,
She said they'd found her a pretty farm
That wanted a Jillaroo,
She'd cook and clean for the family,
And then work out on the farm,
Herding the lowing milkers in
To the milking shed by the barn.
The woman flicked through the client file
In a search for Jacinth's name,
She said, ‘That's strange, I've re-arranged
This file, but just the same,
I have no recollection of this
Girl, whatever she's called,
It could be another agency…'
But I thought the woman stalled!
I went to call at the depot where
The buses were parked at night,
I looked up the owner driver that
I'd seen when Jacinth took flight,
‘I don't remember the girl, ' he said,
‘But March was a fair way back,
She probably went to Willoughby's Farm
On the Strzelecki track.'
My heart sank into my boots at that,
I'd heard of that barren track,
There wasn't a working farm out there
Just bush and the bleak outback,
I packed up the old Toyota Ute
With a jerry can or two,
And headed on up to the Flinders
As I thought she'd want me to.
They hadn't seen her in Lyndhurst
What was left of the old ghost town,
I drove on up to Farina where
The buildings were falling down,
Then by the track on a tyre that sat
At the edge, on a pile of sand,
‘Five miles to Willoughby's Farm', the scrawl
Was writ in a shaky hand.
The farm was ruined and derelict,
The milking shed and the barn,
The tractor sat in a pile of rust
By the house of the ancient farm,
The roof had gone, had fallen in
But the barn was still intact,
And covered in dust by the old barn door
Was Jacinth's haversack.
I pushed the door and it opened up
With a creak of ages past,
I thought of the sweat on the farmer's brow
As he turned away, at the last,
But there in dry, brown dust of the floor
Was a slight but recent mound,
And a shovel leant by the cattle pen
As I fell on my knees, to the ground!
I have this recurring nightmare where
I'm wandering round a farm,
It's out in the middle of nowhere, just
A milking shed and a barn,
And the tears stream in this dreadful dream
To remember the pain and hurt;
With one last look at the haversack,
The shovel bit into the dirt!
15 August,2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Barn at Willoughby's Farm - II
Jacinth's Tale
He was always there on the fringes
Of my world, when just a child,
There wasn't a time he wasn't there
To guide, protect, to chide,
He'd follow me safely home from school,
He'd take me for a ride,
A cousin, so many times removed
From those on my mother's side.
I wasn't the only sibling, but
It was me he called his pet,
The others would get quite jealous
And they'd not let me forget,
‘He carries a torch for you, Jacinth,
And never will let you be! '
But when I was just a teenager
He made me feel like a queen.
He was into his later twenties, then
But he didn't seem to care,
He'd let me dress for a party, then
He'd sit and he'd brush my hair,
There wasn't a friend as good as him
I told my party crowd,
The cuz that lived in the basement
Of our flat, my Tom O'Dowd.
But once I grew as a woman, then
His manner became intense,
He started to irritate me, and
Took issue with all my friends,
‘That fellow isn't the one for you,
He'll only drag you down! '
Or - ‘What in the world are you coming to?
That guy, he's simply a clown! '
He tried to snuggle up closer on
The couch, when I was home,
Started to stroke my hand and knee
When we were quite alone,
I told him I wasn't interested,
That he was merely a friend,
His eyes would follow me round the room,
‘You'll love me, in the end! '
I got upset, and told him straight:
‘I hate it when you cling!
Just leave me be, or Tom, you'll see
You'll just spoil everything! '
He pinned me against the bedroom wall
And stared with his wild, black eyes,
‘I didn't stick all these years, for you
To end up another man's prize! '
I'd started seeing a bikie, with
A Harley - God, it could move,
But never let on to cousin Tom,
I knew he wouldn't approve,
But Joe was really a softie, or
I thought so at the time,
I must have been quite naïve back then,
He'd dabbled in petty crime.
Then Joe suggested we go away,
Get shot of my cousin, Tom,
So I came up with a scheme, to make
It seem there was nothing wrong,
I said I'd a job as a Jillaroo,
And I boarded the bus one night,
Mentioned the name of Willoughby's Farm
So the driver would get it right.
I got off the bus at Lyndhurst, went
To wait by the old hotel,
When Joe rolled up on his Harley, and
We hit the road for a spell,
I kept in touch with my sister so
I'd know what was going down,
And then in the month of June I heard
That Tom was leaving town.
We headed out to the old bush track
I scrawled on that ancient tyre,
I wrote, ‘Five miles to Willoughby's Farm'
And hoped that he'd see it there,
We travelled out to the farm and hid,
For Joe had been there before,
Then buried an old sheep's carcass there
And left my bag by the door.
When Tom came into the barn that morn
We lay, deep hid in the hay,
And watched him dropp to his knees and sob,
Cry out in his pure dismay,
He seized the shovel, began to dig
Then Joe jumped out in a rage,
And suddenly there was blood and a scream
I will hear ‘til my dying day!
Joe lay there in a pool of blood
Where the shovel had sliced his throat,
And Tom reeled back when he heard me scream,
In a long and a high pitched note,
I rode away on the Harley, leaving
Tom back out on the track,
Sunk in that nightmare dream of his,
He'll never be coming back!
16 August,2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Farm
There┬┤s a cockroach in my coffee
There┬┤s a needle in my arm
And I feel like New York City
Get me to the farm
Get me to the farm
Get me to the farm
Somebody get me to the farm
I got terminal uniqueness
I'm an egocentric man
I get caught up in my freakness
But I ain┬┤t no Peter Pan
Get me to the farm
Get me to the farm
Get me to the farm
Get me...
Buckle up straight Jack
Sanity is such a drag
Jellybeam thorazene
Trancendental jet lag
Sanity I ain┬┤t gotta
Feeling like a pinala
Sucker punch-blowin┬┤lung
Motherload-pigeonholed
I'm feeling like I'm gonna explode
I wanna be a Hare Krishna
Tattoo a dot right on my head
And the prozac is my fixer
I am the living dead
Take me to the farm
Take me to the farm
Somebody take me to the farm
Somebody take me to the farm
Take me to the farm
Take me to the farm
Somebody take me to the farm
Somebody take me to the farm
Take me to the farm
Take me to the farm
Take me to the farm...
Take me to the farm
Take me to the farm
Somebody take me to the farm
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Down On The Farm
(jerry laseter/kerry kurt phillips)
(track 4 - time 2:57)
Every friday night theres a steady cloud of dust
That leads back to a field filled with pickup trucks
Got old hank cranking way up loud
Got coolers in the back
Tailgates down
Theres a big fire burnin but dont be alarmed
Its just country boys and girls gettin down on the farm
Eds been on the tractor aint seen becky all week
Somebody said they seen em heading down to the creek
Farmer johnsons daughters just pulled up in a jeep
Man he knows how to grow em if ya know what I mean
Old daves gettin loud but he dont mean no harm
Were just country boys and girls gettin down on the farm
You can have a lot of fun in a new york minute
But theres some things you cant do inside those city limits
Aint no closing time
Aint no cover charge
Just country boys and girls gettin down on the farm
Well you can come as you are
There aint no dress code
Just some rural route rules that you need to know
Dont mess with the bull
He can get real mean
Dont forget to shut the gate
Stay out of the beans
If it starts to rainin will just head to the barn
Were country boys and girls gettin down on the farm
You can have a lot of fun in a new york minute
But theres some things you cant do inside those city limits
Aint no closing time
Aint no cover charge
Just country boys and girls gettin down on the farm
Aint no closing time
Aint no cover charge
Just country boys and girls gettin down on the farm
Oh lets get down yall
Stay out of that hay
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Birth
he was born on a dark lonely night
and not a soul was in sight.
his mother was driving home
on that starry night, when she started
to feel the contractions.
she knew right then that she would
have to take action.
she pulled alongside that old country road
and her stomach she did hold
.
when she felt that waterbag bust
and in GOD she put her trust.
she asked the LORD what she should do
for she knew not what to do.
she heard a voice so soft and gentle
that told her to stay calm.
for this was a special child
that would be born this night
and that everything was going
to be allright.
she pushed the front seat back
as far as it would go
and took off her clothing so
that she could see.
the pains became so severe
and a head did appear.
she pushed with all her might
so that this child could be free.
for this was the way
it was meant to be.
as the child started to come out
from her lungs came a shout.
this child came out with such ease
and she felt a gentle breeze
as if it was a whisper upon her face
and she knew it was through GODS grace.
with a penknife she cut the cord.
and cleaned him up the best she could.
she wrapped him within her coat
and put the heater on
and drove back to a distant farm.
when she got to the farm
and banged upon the door.
when no one answered
she knealt down on the floor.
again she called upon the LORD
and asked what she should do.
he told her to look towads the barn
for there was a light as bright as day
and the farmer was baling hay.
as she got to the barn door
she collapsed in sheer exhaustion.
when she finally opened up her eyes
on the hay she did lay.
and beside her lay her child.
and the farmer told her she was
out for quite a while.
but the ambulance was on the way
and that he could not move her
in fear of jeopardizing her life
and that she was cleaned up
by his lovely wife.
now the farmers wife was
a religious woman
who believed that nothing
happens by chance.
and at this child she did glance.
she said that he had an aura
of light above his head
just like the bible which she had read.
she looked at this childs mother
and asked her this:
'is this coincidence or is this
a sign from above
that he would be in a barn
like christ was in the manger?
she recalled that gentle voice and
what it had said.
that a special child would be born on this night.
now you tell me.
was she wrong, or was she right?
poem by Louis Rams
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What Is A Barn?
A barn is many things-
A barn is a fun place
To run, romp, and play.
It is also a place of refuge,
On hot or stormy days.
A barn is a storage place
For all your tools, grain, and hay.
It is also a place to unwind,
When you have had a tough day.
A barn becomes God's sanctuary,
When you begin to pray
It is also a place of work,
When work is needing done.
A barn is a place
Where freindships can be made
It is also a place
Where new life is born.
A barn is a place
To try with all your might
And finally when its doors are closed,
'Tis safety from the night.
A barn is a place for horses,
And it is a place for cows
A barn is also a hayloft,
Full of little meows
A barn is the Inn
Where our Savior was born
God, our Savior,
Christ, our Lord.
A barn is a work place,
A barn is a play place
A barn is a great place
A barn is a training ring...
A barn is..
Well, when it comes right
Down to it,
A barn is everything!
poem by Macy Dvirnak
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A Truely Norwegian Poem
The Suitor
Uphill I walked it was still dark, had to be at
the farm a five, milking time. Hard westerly
wind makes the climb tough soon the cattle will
be mooing in their pens, the boss grumpy, I’m
hungry and no time to eat; milking eight cows
by hand is no joke. End of the last hill I see
the farm, there is light in the kitchen,
Emma, my dog, barks, stops when she hears my
steps, ten to five, morning light I stop and catch
my breath, they are not going to think that I was
hasting for them I’ll have a quick mug of coffee
a slice of ham, just like any other day, they will
wonder and the maids whisper, but not ask where
and with whom, I spent the night.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Angel In The Barn
It’s hot, by God! - in Warranar,
It’s hot, too hot by far,
The sun leers down from a barren sky
To scorch the where-you-are!
The ground is hard, burnt dry within,
The snakes curl up and die,
And trees take on a crippled shape
As birds fall out of the sky!
The farm is dead, six months a year,
Brown earth and endless dust,
It never rains! Why do we stay?
Despair says that we must!
One night I lay all bathed in sweat,
A hot wind seared the plain,
I seemed to hear some scraping sound,
Then thought: ‘Could this be rain? ’
Outside the moon had shed its light
All pale and gold on brown,
The iron door on the rusty barn
Then fell, came crashing down.
And so it was I saw the wings
Dragged slowly through the hay,
Some giant bird inside the barn,
Some giant bird of prey!
I took the rifle off the wall,
Walked slowly through the dark,
A shape lay on a bale of straw
I aimed! – The shape said: ‘Hark!
I have not come to punish you,
Please put the gun away! ’
The voice was like a silvery bell
On the back of a bullock dray.
I edged in closer to the bird
And saw its wings were fine,
But underneath lay a slip of a girl
With lips as red as wine!
And blood showed on her pallid cheek,
Her arm lay twisted, torn,
I tried to help her up, she cried:
‘No! Leave me here, it’s warm! ’
‘I’ll stay until my arm is healed,
I’ll not get in your way! ’
But I was caught in a fevered dream
That told of her dismay!
And love swept through my blighted soul
As the days and the weeks went by,
I seemed to float, as in a dream
I heard my Angel cry.
‘I fell from out the sky, ’ she said,
‘One day, as dark as this,
A single word from a thoughtless soul,
A blow from an angry fist! ’
‘So evil lurks where Angels roam,
You fight these devils still? ’
‘There is no good, nor evil there,
But man, his twisted will! ’
‘Then why does God make Warranar
So hot, so lost in pain,
The trees cry out in their torture here,
And the ground, it bleeds for rain! ’
‘Perhaps it’s not your God to blame,
Perhaps you send your spell
To the Dark Knight on the Horse of Fire,
Perhaps you writhe in Hell? ’
I woke in bed, all soaked in sweat
And staggered out to the barn,
All that lay was a dead sheep
With a coat that hadn’t been shorn.
I walked away from Warranar
From my dry and barren farm,
And the love I’d seen in a dead sheep,
My Angel in the barn!
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who Stole Our Outhouse? (Fun Poem, But True)
Several drunken revellers were walking home late Saturday night
When they passed McDougal’s farm and they spied a sight
There behind the farmhouse was an old wooden shack
The outhouse stood tall and noble out back
One had a good idea for a jolly spoof
‘Lets lift the outhouse and put it the up on the roof.’
‘But which roof, there are several there? ’
The others looked and grinned ear to ear
‘Lets stick it on the barn, there is a ladder over there.’
So at two o’clock in the morning they went to work full of glee
But they had to be as quiet as could be
Tipping the outhouse on its side
They carried it to the barn
Then got the ladders from along side the farm house
They leant them against the wooden wall
Then pushed and pulled the outhouse to the roof
Placing it on the top, watched it dangle there
Someone found some wood
To wedge under it, to secure it there.
The drunken revellers made their retreat
They hide behind a hedge, and as they were beat
They fell asleep there before the fun began
McDougal awoke at five that morning
Out to the outhouse he went for a sit
He always said it helped with his concentration
Half asleep he wandered out to the back
Out to the little old wooden shack
As he went to open the door
He suddenly realised the outhouse wasn’t there anymore
‘EE Gads! ! ’ He shouted as he had nowhere to sit
He ran to tell his wife the lovely Mabel-Pitt
‘Someone has stolen our little old wooden shack
The one we love to sit in out back.’
Mabel-Pitt put on her dressing gown
And came down to the door
‘McDougal what are you shouting for? ’
‘Someone has stolen our outhouse and left us with only the pit.’
‘You mean our double seated place where we love to sit? ’
‘Yes my dear, it is really gone,
all that is left is a hole in the ground.’
‘There is no alternative McDougal, dear.’
‘What is that my honey beer? ’
‘You’ll have to sit behind the hedge.’
Unbeknown the revellers were fast asleep there.
As McDougal started to walk to the hedge
He spotted the shadow from the barn
There seemed to be something wrong there
Turning he gasped at the sight
There on the roof the outhouse stood out against the morning light
‘I have found it my Mabel-Pitt. It is up there.’
Pointing his finger skyward in the air.
‘Where? ’ she asked running in her dressing gown.
Then looked around and gave such a frown.
‘We can’t go up there for a sit,
there isn’t anything under it, not even a pit.’
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ain't Gonna Work On Your Farm No More
I ain’t gonna work on your farm no more
I ain’t gonna scrub all your floors,
I ain’t gonna take all your friends who ignore
what I do when they hide behind doors
where they pay no attention to stuff that I think,
and say, when they pay me a dime,
that I ain’t entitled to spend it on drink,
or ladies who show me good time.
I ain’t gonna work for your children or friends
who preach of the law and the Lord,
and hear all those messages God never sends
to people with who He is bored,
like I am. I ain’t gonna work on your farm,
instead I will write me a song,
and pray that its words will all sound the alarm,
for I expect to be back before long.
Mark Z. Barabak (“He’s Digging ‘Farm, ’” LA Times, June 26,2008) writes that Barack Obama’s favorite Bob Dylan song is “Maggie’s Farm, ” performed in 1995 at the Newport Festival, when he turned electric and never looked back:
I AIN’T GONNA WORK ON MAGGIE’S FARM NO MORE
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I wake up every morning
hold my hands and pray for rain
I've got a head full of ideas
driving me insane
It's a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor
well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more
He hands you a nickel
he hands you a dime
He asks you and your friends
if you're having a good time
He blames you every time you slam the door
Well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's Pa no more
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's Pa no more
He stubs his cigarette out in your face just for kicks
his bedroom window is made out of bricks
And the National Guard are standing at his door
well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's mother no more
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's mother no more
She talks to all the servants about man and God and law
and everybody swears she's the brains behind Pa
She's sixty-eight, but claim's she's twenty-four
well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I try so hard to be just who I am
but everybody wants you to be just like them
They say 'see, while you're playing I get bored'? ?
well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
6/26/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There was a farm near a river
There was a farm
near a river
where on patrol
we sometimes had to get provisions.
A commandant stayed there
and he was a real patriarch
that read out of the Bible in the evenings,
gave biltong away from a barn
and his wife
could cook the best Boer food,
but we had to cross the river
which teamed with crocodiles
and hippopotamuses
which could snap a boat in two
and when we walked to that farm
we couldn’t wait
to get there.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Abandoned Zimbabwean Farmhouse
It was a great commercial farm
at a time,
says the uncultivated fields
where the last crop of maize stands
not harvested at the right time,
says the big house
build from rock with Rhodesian teak floors
and great wooden doors
of which only splinters remain
where they had been axed
for fire wood
says the huge barn,
with a now rusting roof,
now stripped from anything valuable
says the stable now bare
from any living animals
and its obvious that the farmer
and his family left in haste
and that everything is going to waste
says the broken china cups, the broken dinner plates
the child’s toys which are scattered, smashed
and I wonder if the family did survive
when the farm was invaded
by a thieving unruly youth
and so-called war veterans.
[Reference: Abandoned Farmhouse by Ted Kooser.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Aint Gonna Work On Maggies Farm No More
(bob dylan)
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I wake up every morning
Hold my hands and pray for rain
Ive got a head full of ideas
Driving me insane
Its a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor
Well, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
Well, I aint gonna work for maggies brother no more
I aint gonna work for maggies brother no more
He hands you a nickel
He hands you a dime
He asks you and your friends
If youre having a good time
He blames you every time you slam the door
Well, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
Well, I aint gonna work for maggies pa no more
I aint gonna work for maggies pa no more
He stubs his cigarette out in your face just for kicks
His bedroom window is made out of bricks
And the national guard are standing at his door
Well, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
Well, I aint gonna work for maggies mother no more
I aint gonna work for maggies mother no more
She talks to all the servants about man and God and law
And everybody swears shes the brains behind pa
Shes sixty-eight, but claims shes twenty-four
Well, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
Well, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I try so hard to be just who I am
But everybody wants you to be just like them
They say see, while youre playing I get bored ? ?
Well, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Animal Farm
This world is big and wild and half insane
Take me where real animals are playing
Just a dirty old shack
Where the hound dogs bark
That we called our home
I want to be back there
Among the cats and dogs
And the pigs and the goats
On animal farm
My animal home
On animal farm
My animal home
While I lay my head upon my pillow
Little girl, come play beneath my window
Though shes far from home
She is free from harm
And she need not fear
She is by my side
And the sky is wide
So let the sun shine bright
On animal farm
My animal home
On animal farm
My animal home
Girl, its a hard, hard world, if it gets you down
Dreams often fade and die in a bad, bad world
Ill take you where real animals are playing
And people are real people not just playing
Its a quiet, quiet life
By a dirty old shack
That we called our home
I want to be back there
Among the cats and dogs
And the pigs and the goats
On animal farm
My animal home
On animal farm
My animal home
On animal farm
Animal farm
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Alice Comes Back To The Farm
Jenny had a bawl at me the other night
She threw it up an drove away.
So I made a call completely outa sight
Hope to put it right today
When alice comes back to the farm
I wont be in the cold tonight.
When alice comes back to the farm
You know its gonna be alright. yeah
Gimme an appointment put me in the light
Thats a taste of what she needs.
Such a disappointment daddys in the right.
Time for tearing out the weeds
When alice comes back to the farm
I wont be in the cold tonight.
When alice comes back to the farm,
You know its gonna be alright, yeah.
Relax now baby that woman wont get past my door
I believe, I believe that woman wont pass my door
She wont be raisin no alarm
Dont get around much any more
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ring
Words and music by bob seger
By the light of the moon
To a 50s tune
He pledged his love to her
A girl so rare
A girl so fair
The girl for him for sure
He could see himself getting up every mornin
For the rest of his life
Just to look in those eyes so blue
It was all he ever wanted to do
She was all hed ever need to see him through
They were still in their teens
When he gave her the ring
They were married late one may
And they moved into a little house
On the far end of town
Out by the big highway
And all through the days
And all through the nights
The cars and trucks rolled on by
And he slept through it all just fine
Every night he slept just fine
Sometimes shed stare at the stars out the window
Sometimes shed walk 'neath the moon
Sometimes shed sit there just watching him sleeping
Hoping the dawn would come soon
Shed done well in school
Shed followed the rules
And shed always stood out from the rest
Shed go off to college
And work her way through
Then move to some city out west
She had it all planned
Shed have her career
Shed have all of the things that shed always lacked
Shed wake up one morning all packed
And leave here and never look back
Most of her friends thought it soon would be over
Not many thought it would last
Most seemed to think they were all wrong for each other
And soon it would pass - soon it would pass
Now twenty years have gone
And her kids have moved on
And shes still on the far end of town
Her youngest shes livin somewhere in l.a.
And her oldest he works on a nearby farm
Her husband comes home
And they talk over supper
Hes usually the first to turn in
Another day comes to an end
Another day just ends
And sometimes in the wee hours when the traffic dies down
Shell hear the sound of some bird on the wing
And shell look out the window and shell look at his picture
But not at the ring not at the ring
She never looks at the ring
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Miss Judys Farm
(ronnie wood, rod stewart)
Miss judy she was moody
Owned a sweaty farm in old alabam
I was just 18, crude and mean
All I needed was to get my own way
Get out of my way
Miss judy she could have me
Any hour of the working day
Shed send me in the corn field mid afternoon
Said son its all part of your job
Miss judy had a cross eyed poodle
That I would kick if I was given the chance
Never was amused by the kindness I used
I was whipped in the barn until dawn
It hurt me
Last summer we was restless
Were gonna make a stand and burn down your farm
But it was all in the head
Cause out in the yard
Miss judy had the national guard
We was beaten, before we started
Miss judy she was moody
And she always didnt get her own way
Just state the facts, get it right
Kick her when shes down
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Barn
They should never have built a barn there, at all -
Drip, drip, drip! - under that elm tree,
Though when it was young. Now it is old
But good, not like the barn and me.
To-morrow they cut it down. They will leave
The barn, as I shall be left, maybe.
What holds it up? 'Twould not pay to pull down.
Well, this place has no other antiquity.
No abbey or castle looks so old
As this that Job Knight built in '54,
Built to keep corn for rats and men.
Now there's fowls in the roof, pigs on the floor.
What thatch survives is dung for the grass,
The best grass on the farm. A pity the roof
Will not bear a mower to mow it. But
Only fowls have foothold enough.
Starlings used to sit there with bubbling throats
Making a spiky beard as they chattered
And whistled and kissed, with heads in air,
Till they thought of something else that mattered.
But now they cannot find a place,
Among all those holes, for a nest any more.
It's the turn of lesser things, I suppose.
Once I fancied 'twas starlings they built it for.
poem by Edward Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Dont Wanna Leave You On The Farm
I dont wanna leave you on the farm
I dont wanna leave you on the farm
I dont wanna go
Oh, just so ya know
I dont wanna leave you on the farm
Days go by and Im still high
But you know Im thinkin about you
Corns turned brown, leaves fall to the ground
Its a sound that reminds me of you
I dont wanna leave you on the farm
I dont wanna leave you on the farm
I dont wanna go
Oh, just so ya know
I dont wanna leave you on the farm
No telephone to call you at home
Im alone on the throne
Go get somethin, hey, thanks for nothin
Ill keep truckin and gettin myself stoned
I dont wanna leave you on the farm
I dont wanna leave you on the farm
I dont wanna go
Oh, just so ya know
I dont wanna leave you on the farm
Days go by and Im still high
But you know Im thinkin about you
Corns turned brown, leaves fall to the ground
Its a sound that sticks like glue
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A strange farm girl
She smiled with the old farmer's son
And he thinks that she's different from others.
The way she holds the sickle
And her talking manner too.
After the harvest festival
She's not to be seen anymore and the farm boy is sad.
''She's with her far relative here
On her school holidays and then back to school.'
His inquisitive widowed sister told.
She helped to the Harvest and not only that
And she's stolen the boy's mild heart.
How many school holidays have passed?
And the usual harvest never stopped.
The farm boy has taken
His deceased father's burden
And like a nonentity he just walks towards the barn!
* 'There are times when silence has the loudest voice.' -Leroy Brownlow
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the early morning
When a god in the early morning
descended from the east
he wanted to find
a farm girl
and to get a Afrikaner girl
as a mate,
but no Afrikaner farm girl
liked him.
He got really angry
and went to the old Orange Free State
and there he scorched the earth open
with lightning bolts
and blasted every thing flat
to be able to see miles far
when an Afrikaner farm girl passes.
He farmed as well as he could
and fetched his sheep
from the fields
and one day
when he was standing in the field
between the blue bushes,
he saw an Afrikaner farm girl going past
and on his horse
he rode as fast as the wind
with dust hanging
twisting behind him
to get his girl.
l’Envoi
With time a nation
emerged like giants
out of that dry earth
and they work
before the sun rises
farming in that arid region
and here and there
a boy
watches a girl...
[Reference: The Orange Free State is province in South Africa, which is very arid with a flat landscape.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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