Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MILKIN', by P. [PSEUD.]


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

MILKIN', by                    
First Line: It was a sunburned farmer who was leaning on a plough
Last Line: "'well, I told 'im there'd be milkin',' he remarked, and seized his plough"
Alternate Author Name(s): P.
Subject(s): Farm Life;labor & Laborers; Agriculture;farmers


IT was a sunburned farmer who was leaning on a plough,
And talking to a traveller as he mopped his shining brow;
"Can you milk?" the farmer queried, and the weary one replied—
"Never left a gill in any cow I ever sat beside."

The farmer stood and pondered and he said, "Well, I might find
Some sort of light employment fer a feller to me mind;
While me son an' me are ploughin' (we must do it while we can)
Some jobs maybe'll crop up fer a useful, all-round man.

"There's some snaggin' at the water-'ole—it's time that that was done—
And the missus wants wire-nettin' fixed around 'er poultry run;
There's some cleanin' round the stables, and there's milkin', did I say?"
"Yes, you spoke about the milkin'," said the traveller; "fire away."

"You can fill tomorrer mornin',"said the farmer, sure and slow,
"With a drain I've thoughter diggin' fer this fifteen month or so;
There's the pigs' feed to be carried, there's the 'orses to attend,
And a heap of broken blacksmith's tools that's waitin' fer ter mend.

"There's some fencin' the contractor couldn't finish, bein' sick—
You'll find 'is line of post-'oles over yonder by the crick;
And towards evenin' Sis an' mother 'ull be ready with the cows"—
"Aye, you mentioned there'd be milkin'," said the man, with gloomy brows.

"The man I want," the farmer said, "won't loaf about and yarn;
You can 'ave the last bloke's quarters in the corner of the barn;
If your time should 'ang too 'eavy (when the milkin' is got through)
I've some old tarpaulin covers you could fix as good as noo.

"I'll wake you in the mornin'," said the farmer, "with the boy;
It's gen'lly turn-out early with the men that I employ.
And you'll start the day with milkin'—have I spoke of that as yet?"
"I believe I 'eard a whisper," said the traveller in a sweat.

"Well, things is pretty quiet," said the farmer. "Seems to me
Twelve bob a week ud pay you, if you git your tucker free.
There'll be fencin', diggin', mendin', patchin' things up 'ere an' there"—
"And amusements, sech as milkin'," said the traveller with a glare.

"There'll be Sis and me and Mother," said the traveller, growing red,
"'Ull be tuggin' at them milkers when the sun ain't outer bed;
And when the pale moon's risin', all the landscape fer to kiss,
Sittin' achin' in the cowshed 'll be Mother, Me, and Sis.

"When things get kinder lonesome fer the want of work to do,
We'll git up milkin' parties till the night is 'alfway through.
When the crimson sun is mountin', or is sinkin' in the west,
I'll be milkin', 'long of Mother, just to keep me 'eart at rest."

And the traveller muttered curses that were loud, and likewise deep,
And he left the farmer standing like a man surprised from sleep.
The farmer watched him plodding o'er the hillside's muddy brow—
"Well, I told 'im there'd be milkin'," he remarked, and seized his plough.





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