lamming

Doors slammed shut with quite a sound
Children scattered for miles around
Sheep dogs scampered for their box
The only winner the hungry fox
.
Another lamming season in the hills
Where natures cares not who it kills
Favourite ewes and trusted friends
In cold heath land meet bitter end
.
Wives scatter or on best behaviour
Wishing all twins as the family saviour
Colostrum in bottles temperature right
Awake in the byre all through the night
.
Eye bags sagging deep and low
The sleepless shepherd to the pub will go
With other shepherds time is spent
Boasting lamming rates of hundred percent

accountant visit

Farmer Brown is off to town
the accountant to meet
with bin liner of invoices
and the odd receipt
browsing the grubby pages
and margins full of notes
written in Browns spider script
the action he promotes


the removal of battery hens
the compassionate will approve
bigger pens for the sows
and farrowing crates removed
the hens that go out to feed
at night have nesting box
the egg laying down on last year
thanks to a greedy fox


the malting barley failed the grade
now only used as feed
the wheat grown for the bakers
was not quite what they need
the beef and lamb at market
prices never soared
are well below expected
with cheap meat from abroad


the accountant said diversify
its the only thing to do
had he thought of ostrich
snake or kangaroo
as the accountant read on
he looked grave and ill
as he couldn't find any cash
that Brown could pay his bill

farmers year

Thick of head and over hung
The farmer greets the New Year
Contemplating what lies ahead
Through the optimistic fug of beer
.
January will be crisp and dry
The insect will die of cold
And I will get a good price
For store lambs I’ve sold
.
February on Valentines Day
The wife will be true to form
She’ll forgo the silly cards
For fingerless gloves so warm
.
March will be lamming time
Daylight will make them begin
They’ll not thinking of lamming at night
And give birth to healthy twins
.
April showers happen at night
And fall only where needed
It will not fall on barren soil
But only where I just seeded
.
May all fruit blossom will be out
Bees busy pollinating
They will do the fruit trees first
Although rape seed is waiting
.
June of the longest days
Tractors serviced due to mileage
Contract work floods in
After my two cuts of silage
.
July the grass tall and straight
All rain clouds stay away
All the grass is cut and baled
In succulent four day hay
.
August wheat is gathered in
The heating salesman cry
Combine harvester runs all day
And the wheat is storage dry
.
September main crop potatoes
Harvested more than I need
The potato buyers raise the bidding
To use my crop for seed
.
October sheep scab stays away
All sheep eager for the dip
The fruit trees picked and crated up
Delivered in one trip
.
November all cattle snug inside
And feast well on winter store
The air is clean as is the hay
With no bacterial spore
.
December with nights drawn in
And festivities in the air
Christmas trees fetch a good price
All green with no patches bare
.
From the window looking out
The farm track a muddy stream
Sheep call for feed in torrential rain
To shatter his hopeful dream

100%

Over heard in a bar!!!!


If you disregard number fifty two
Who really never had a clue
All her lamming had its cost
Every lamb she had was lost
nursed under lamp and bales of hay
The poor old thing has passed away
.
Eight and twelve I've been instructed
Don’t count because they’re tax deducted
Fifteen ten and twenty eight
We are still waiting because they’re late
They always give birth to octets
Well-fed and treated like pets
.
Ninety four and thirty five
There was a scare but still alive
Not counting ewes that are too old
And the ten soon to be sold
We are feeling quite content
This year we’ll hit hundred percent
.
Congratulations praised a hearty drinks all round
with fallen stock collection there's no burial mound

in the field

Sitting in his tractor high
The closest thing to the sky
The fields lush and steady growing
Bumper crop from one sowing

Above the crop the skylark sing
House Martin feeding on the wing
Butterflies take to the skies
With iridescent dragon flies

Beneath the crop daisy and yarrow
Scattered by the plough and harrow
Cocksfoot, rye and timothy
Grassland Savannah will never be

Beneath the leaves rapid breeding
White fly black fly aphid feeding
Food for lace wing and ladybird
Their ravenous larvae preferred

Slugs and snail in cover deep
Feeding frogs and hedgehogs creep
Parting leaves the stalking curlew
While thrushes break snail shells in two

Nature in bountiful display
For man just gets in the way
For you consumers this is done
Start the tractor and spray on

cruelty on farms

Time to speak of cruelty
Of suffering and pain
About the poor creatures
On hill farms wet with rain
I see them struggle onward
Working beyond endurance
If they fail they are doomed
Not covered by insurance
.


They rise in early morning
Work well in to the night
Given little shelter
Punished if do things right
Suffer from poor health
From chemicals and spray
With spoors of fungi in the lungs
They cough and cough all day
.


These poor communal creatures
That with others to be, are meant
Have a solitary existence
Work on with grim intent
Mud thick is all around them
It clings and saps the strength
For all other creatures comfort
They will go to some great length
.


In winter the extremities freeze
Constantly stamp their feet
Water tanks of solid ice
Each morning do they meet
A prey to agricultural reps
And bank manager’s charmer
Please buy your food locally
And save the poor hill farmer

farmers holiday

Farmers don't have holidays
I think most people knew
After 30 years without one
farmer George thought he was due


where to go he wondered
throwing darts at a map
But trying to get to Timbuktu
would stress an enterprising chap


Timbuktu Has had a drought
for twenty years or more
so with imminent global warming
those folk should know the score


George found a cheap flight
the terms seemed quite severe
it wouldn't allow cows on board
nor sheep, goats, or deer


as for his trusty sheep dog
they seemed a tad unkind
the only way that he could fly
was if George went blind


packed up his clothes in a feed bag
of fifty shades of green
hanging outside he hung wellies
never have they been so clean


stopped at check in security
for committing a crime
in the deep recess of is pockets
his knife and some baler twine


luggage search to destruction
secreted and hidden away
fencing pliers, staples and split pins
foot shears and purple spray


fourteen days of interrogation
hoping that he will tell
the members and the accomplices
of his murderous terrorist cell


released to care in the community
to his croft in mud and more rain
to rip up his holiday brochures
he won't try a holiday again

Farmers weekly

It's that time of the week
the family all dread
There will be no mischief
till the Farmers Weekly's read
Farmer Brown flicks the pages
his rages never fail
when he comes upon the page
of farms up for sale


that well appointed property
in a vale of verdant green
where no rusty tractors
or old machinery to be seen
sheep in adjacent field
well shorn no patch of bald
no sign of scour at the back
no foot rot or scald


the cattle in the pasture
well fed and straight of back
with a shiny coat and healthy
all his cross-breds lack
there are poultry in the farm yard
no droppings or bits of straw
unlike Browns scrawny critters
pecking at the door


the farm is so attractive
a sale there's bound to be
to the just plain lucky
of the peasantry
Browns farm was just like this
before he bought a cow
so many years of falling prices
who would buy it now?

shearing

June is round the corner

A busy time of year

With little chance of frost at night

And many sheep to shear

Looking for machine oil

To keep shear blades dandy

In the junkyard of the byre

For things that come in handy

.

The dagging shears with rusty blades

Electric clippers stuck

A few choice words of wisdom

Will start them with some luck

The sheep line up in terror

As enthusiasm fades

All except the first two

Will need iodine first aid

.

The shear line becomes blurred

The back begins to ache

Not employing shearers

Has been a big mistake

A hot bath awaits you

To ease labours of the croft

Lanolin smell pervades the house

The day your hands are soft

Treasure of the Andes (1993)