One Who Rejects Christ
There's farmers and there's farmers,
There's many a field and field,
But none of the farmers round about
Can haul such harvest-wagons out
As I from an acre's yield.
There's plenty and plenty of farmers
That leave the ground by the fence,
Thinking it's nice if a patch of roses
Should scratch out the hay and tickle their noses
With nice little wild-rose scents.
I'm not like other farmers,
I make my farming pay;
I never go in for sentiment,
And seeing that roses yield no rent
I cut the stuff away.
A very good thing for farmers
If they would learn my way;
For crops are all that a good field grows,
And nothing is worse than a sniff of rose
In the good strong smell of hay.
poem by John Crowe Ransom

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Farmers Daughter
Written by brian wilson.
I could come from miles away
Aint got (aint got, aint got)
No place to stay (place to stay, place to stay)
Glad to (glad to, glad to)
Help you plow your fields (help you plow, help you plow)
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Might be (might be, might be)
Just a couple of days (couple of days, couple of days)
Clean up (clean up, clean up)
Rest and on my way (on my way, on my way)
Thank you (thank you, thank you)
And Im must obliged (much obliged, much obliged)
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Mmmm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmmmm
Mmmm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmmmm
So long (so long, so long)
Better leave your land (leave your land, leave your land)
Many thanks (many thanks, many thanks)
It was mighty grand (mighty grand, mighty grand)
I do (hope to, hope to)
Hope to see you again (see you again see you again)
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Oh oh
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Oh oh
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Farmers Daughter
I could come from miles away
Aint got (aint got, aint got)
No place to stay (place to stay, place to stay)
Glad to (glad to, glad to)
Help you plow your fields (help you plow, help you plow)
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Might be (might be, might be)
Just a couple of days (couple of days, couple of days)
Clean up (clean up, clean up)
Rest and on my way (on my way, on my way)
Thank you (thank you, thank you)
And Im must obliged (much obliged, much obliged)
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Mmmm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmmmm
Mmmm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmmmm
So long (so long, so long)
Better leave your land (leave your land, leave your land)
Many thanks (many thanks, many thanks)
It was mighty grand (mighty grand, mighty grand)
I do (hope to, hope to)
Hope to see you again (see you again see you again)
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Oh oh
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Oh oh
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
song performed by by Beach Boys

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Our farmers round, well pleased with constant gain, Like other farmers, flourish and complain.
quote by George Crabbe

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Family Bible & The Farmers Almanac
(lee thomas miller/bob regan)
My fathers father was the wisest man I ever knew
Sixty years of education
Seven years of school
Farming kept his body strong
At night the only books he owned
Kepted his mind sharp as a tack
The family Bible and the farmers almanac
When to plant
When to havest
How you weed just what you sow
When to look for rain and who to turn to when it dont
There was a plan for defrost
Salvation for the lost
Words to live and die by front to back
The family Bible and the farmers almanac
One came from his mother
Handed down the day she died
The co-op sent the other
Every year at christmastime
He knew the seasons to the day
Knew paul and peter by first name
He could answer any question he was asked
With the family Bible and the farmers almanac
When to plant
When to havest
How you weed just what you sow
When to look for rain and who to turn to when it dont
There was a plan for defrost
Salvation for the lost
Words to live and die by front to back
The family Bible and the farmers almanac
He knew the way to get
Through this life to the next
While others spoke of faith
He found the facts
In the family Bible and the farmers almanac
The family Bible and the farmers almanac
song performed by by Randy Travis

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I respected it. I submerged myself into it. So on a lot of days off I would go and fish with the fishermen and the families that ran the boats. I would go work the fields with farmers. I would go and talk with farmers about growing particular products for me.
quote by Emeril Lagasse

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Agricultural, Implements and Machinery
Poor laborers, they did sad bewail,
When the machine displaced the flail ;
Theres little work, now, with the hoes,
Since cultivators weed the rows.
Labor it became more fickle
When the scythe took place of sickle ;
Labor still it did sink lower
By introduction of mower ;
And the work was done much cheaper
When they added on the reaper.
Another machine to it they join,
Mower, reaper, binder, they combine.
Machines now load and stow away
Both the barley and the hay,
And the farmers do get richer
With the loader and the pitcher.
Theres little work now for the hoes,
Since cultivators weed the rows ;
They sow and rake by the machine-
Hand labor's 'mong the things have been.
Armed with scythes, the old war chariot
Cut down men in the fierce war riot ;
Round farmer's chariot falls the slain,
But 'tis the sheaves of golden grain.
This harvest, now, of eighty-four,
Will great wealth on farmers pour,
For there is abundant yield
Of fruitful crops in every field.
poem by James McIntyre

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Surroundings-3
In The Farmers' Market
Fresh and fruity they
Need of the public rightly
Yield from the field straight
Right measure, right cost, right sale
Retail chucked, happy bagful
poem by Indira Renganathan

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It Is A Bleak Season For Farmers
It is a bleak Season for farmers with climate change and livestock prices down
Some of them have sold what they can sell and moved to live and to find jobs in the town
For many of them the rains have come too late climate change affecting everywhere
Global warming is in every Country in the bigger World out there
Some arrogant Humans think they can control Nature how come they have got it so wrong
How egotistical they must be for to think they can control the one we to belong
For we too are a part of Nature as much as her creatures of sea and of land
And she will always be our master though some that do not understand
Many farmers due to climate change the land are leaving and that seems a sad thing to say
With less farmers less food in the supermarket but the wealthy they will be okay
For a farm food scarcity means higher food prices but for food they can afford for to pay
'Tis the poor will be condemned to suffer in times of food scarcity 'tis always this way
It is a bleak Season for farmers and that is a sad thing to hear
And for the have nots of the World it looks like another bleak year.
poem by Francis Duggan

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
This time in june
It's june
The farmer's spell
With cutlasses and hoes
We rushed off our feet;
Off to the feild we go
It's june
The farmer's delight
With so much rigor
We worked our fingers sore
And in the night
We barely had a sleep
It's june
The farmer's joy
The heavens had opened up
Their hearts upon the earth
For the farmers household
It's time to toil
So, in november;
When harvest finally comes
The farmer walked with pride
It's the pinnacle of his yeild
And he is proud to trade
So, in november;
When harvest finally comes
With basket and sacks
We headed for the feild
It's time to fill our barns;
Even our bellies,
Also; the farmers wallet
A heavy weight to lift
And for the farmers household
It's time for spoils
This time in june;
It was a different story
And my father says;
No pain, no gain!
poem by Bolami lawal

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mamta
Of the cattle disease and the soot of a furnace tossed in the air!
Of the words of sorrow and the boils out of the disease,
But the farmers are still searching for the answers;
And Mamta my lover come and told me of the news.
You are the sunshine that dawns on me oh my sweet Mamta! !
And i will always search for you no matter how long it takes;
For these farmers need to learn from you as well,
And like the beauty of the rainbow as seen up high.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Unsung Heroes
The land laid waste and desolate.
Opposing armies came and went,
that neither thought to contemplate
the end result is evident.
There’ll be no harvest here to reap
There’s no one left to till the land.
Beneath the soil the farmers sleep.
The warriors failed to understand
In war there is no victory.
The winners and the losers fail
to learn from all past history.
That warriors die to no avail
The real heroes are men of peace.
The farmers and the labourers
the men who toil without surcease
to feed themselves and their neighbours.
14-Aug-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It is time for Congress to provide relief for tobacco farmers. Since the 1930's tobacco production has been regulated by a quota system, which required farmers to purchase quota in order to grow tobacco.
quote by Allen Boyd

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Parents (a poem to sing)
Owning lands
moist soil
farmers
vow to sow.
Spreading seeds
all over
for healthy plants
to grow.
Watering the saplings
fertilising
good
for the health of plants.
Pruning them
and then
amidst the Godly chants.
Buds blossom
into flowers
fragrance
spreading
to and fro.
Farmers happy
rejoice flowers
blessed by
HIS graceful show.
---x----
All rights reserved/Tribhawan Kaul
poem by Tribhawan Kaul

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet- The Farmer
Despite all progress, Science has made today,
The Indian farmers tills the field old style;
And threshes sheaves to sort the grain from hay;
Returning late with bullocks, walking miles!
The scorching Sun can’t tan his skin much more;
The pouring rain destroys the crops, he raised;
The mighty winds can’t make his eyes more sore;
By end of day, he looks tired and dazed.
The rodents, birds play havoc in his field;
The insects eat the sprouting grain and leaves;
The manure-costs affects his yearly yield;
And all he makes is thinner, smaller sheaves.
And middle-men ruin the sum he makes;
He feeds others but keeps just cow-dung cakes!
poem by John Celes

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Abundant Harvest
The following was composed and read at a gathering in the new
Parsonage, Salford, in the fall, 1883.
The farmers are in cheerful mood,
For harvest all it hath been good;
And all the grain was sown this spring
An abundant yield will bring.
And you can scarcely stow away.
The yield of barley, oats and hay ;
Such pasture it is seldom seen,
E'en now it is so fresh and green.
This beauteous color nature decks
While it insures you large milk checques [sic],
And certes you've much cause to praise
For hogs and cattle that you raise.
poem by James McIntyre

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
040610d Plenty Isn't Good For Farmers
strawberry brightens
as it touches my lips
squirst as my teeth
buried deep, i cringe
i dip into sugar bowl
crystals clinging
masking seeds
my tongue painted red
my fingers wet with sweets
sourness neutralize to a nil
i'm loving it, i'm having my fill
cheaper as it is, won't last
nice weather good for crops
***
prevailing good weather send
strawberry price tumbling,
farmers are not amuse.
some destroy their crops.
is that humanly?
poem by Manonton Dalan

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Where Are The Thunder and Lightning?
The farmers of Karnataka in India
are staging agitations and protests
standing waist deep in the Kabini river
against the verdict of the Supreme Court
for releasing some cusecs of water
from the marvellous Brindavan Dam,
to quench the thirst of the farmers
in the nearby Tanjore belt in Tamil Nadu.
The South West Monsoon Winds are sterile
belying the hopes of the farmers
of the both the States.
The rain-god is sleeping somewhere!
What can the poor do
if lightning bolt strike
the women working in paddy fields
and the boys selling snacks on the beach,
and those taking shelter under the tall trees
when thunder and lightning forewarn the rains?
The gods are snoring in the granite chambers
with the mafia of Sand, Gold, Sandalwood and Coal.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Feeding A Hungry Asia
China India hungry markets
2.5 billion people droughts floods
increasing phenomena purchases
on global markets now
are undermining food
global world prices now
world’s poorest farmers
are key to deficit farmers' food
production improvement
poem by Terence George Craddock

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Farmers Complaint
The frosted fields are lying fallow.
The frozen ground will not allow
free passage to the farmers plough
Though things will change they always do
Then is the time he must review
the wisest course he can pursue.
He needs to plough then he must sow
the kind of crops he wants to grow
he can’t afford to be too slow.
When spring sunshine ignites the fuse.
A farmer has no time to lose.
Excuses are of little use.
Spring is the time of life’s rebirth.
He must prepare the fertile earth
and labour hard to prove his worth
.
The seasons cycle in their turn
as every farmer has to learn
If you don’t work you cannot earn.
A farmer only prospers when
he works harder than other men
or so they say time and again.
I do not know it may be true
That farmers have too much to do.
I don’t believe it though. Do you?
11-Jan-09
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In dry Namaqualand
In dry Namaqualand, in the stretched out paradise,
there are pretty flowers showing their faces
that rise after the first rain in that semi-desert,
appearing for days long in colourful splendour
when the sun shines over the hillocks.
Early in the morning tourists come when the sun is out
when wild flowers year after year sprout again,
to leave in their busses in the late afternoon
in dry Namaqualand,
in this way farmers are visited without any sign of respect
are trampled upon by every jolly John with a vehicle license
and later the visitors become a pain
while the local farmers wish for the flowers to languish away
rather than to have to point them out
in dry Namaqualand.
poem by Gert Strydom

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!