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If it doesn't rain.
I was dallying before the thresh,
And the heads were good and full.
The mood was sent to test,
The sturdiest of the crew.
We harvested the golden grain,
And the silos were to the brim.
The word the year before "pain."
In weather behelden grim.
But this year we saw the rain,
And the sunshine on the reap.
And we'll fill another train,
With the work of this year's keep.
But lo' I am getting on,
And the whispers louder each year,
I should wish an easier job,
But the land it holds me here.
(c)R.H.Elliott 2005
