Tuesday 18 October 2016

Atop the hill

The mountain calls the fog does fall
Up the hill the oats the corn the call

Rocks gravel sand turns to dust
Does and bucks the lust

Out comes the gun the black crows the fun
Bang bang from tow hundred yards

The crows do scatter
Wat the hell crows don,t matter

THE BARN

From the air in the barn
Rats flies the farmers yarn

The rain beats down tin roof the goof
Water by the gallon cream the proof

The sawdust blows the driven snows
The farmer blows his nose

The warm heat from the cattle
The farmer knows he has won the battle

 
biz.