The Madness of Hay-Making!


BalingThere are times in life when you seriously question choices. In a farmer’s world these often happen around harvest or where animals are involved! I was enjoying making hay this year, the weather was perfect, the crop looked good and the aged machinery was behaving itself. And then yesterday evening all hell broke loose…

It was a perfect hay-making day,
Not a cloud sullied the sky,
The hay lay in rows,
The dust awaiting release,
And all was silent.

The baler arrived in the field,
The tractor gave a grunt,
As the machine was started.
The giant ram said,
“Chunka, Chunka Chunka!”

The tractor moved forward,
The pick-up gently lifted the rows,
The prongs moved the hay,
Towards the giant ram,
“Chunka, Chunka Chunka!”

The giant ram pushed the hay,
with violent rhythmical surges,
Towards the string and knotters,
Waiting to tie the hay into bales,
And eject them into the world.

A terrible noise in a farmer’s world!
When acres of hay await the bailer.
Enforced silence after so much noise,
The search begins for what is wrong,
No dice are thrown in this game!

The fault is found and it’s back to the workshop,
The welder looks a likely cure!
And then the pressure of breakdown,
Reaches its zenith and illogicality reigns,
And there’s only one sensible answer:

A cup of tea and piece of cake!
(Along with a baby granddaughter’s two-toothed smile)
To make things better!

© Baldock Bard 2013
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