OUR SILO.

Hawera & Normanby Star, Volume XLII, Issue XLII, 8 September 1923, Page 4

OUR SILO.

My poem ain't long, i^nd it isn't a song, Vo read it won't do you much harm; Just take the hint quick, discard the hay rick, Put a silo on every farm. When it comes to your door. i rou build right from the floor, It's as easy as singing a psalm; [t's all tongue and groove, And it's easy to move, rhe silo on every farm. When you've finished to build A.nd you have it well filled, [t's a tower of strength to your farm; And the cattle with glee, Will come far to see, A. silo on every farm. Ihere's the horses, the cow, Don't forget cthe old sow, Silage for all has a charm; A.nd Ned, with a bray, Says: "If I had my way, ['d have a _silo on every farm." Dome rain, hail, or snow, Let wintry winds blow, ¥our feeding is safe, so be calm; Let this be your motto. your watchword, your guide, "A silo on every farm." THE FARMER OF TO-MORROW. "The farmer of to-morrow," says a noted scientist, "will be a biological jngineer, since all forms of growth are manifestations of microbic activity." The farmer bold, In days of old, Was a simple son of toil. He drove his plough, With sweating brow, As he tickled the stubborn soil. He raised his wheat In the summer heat, He grew his oats and corn. He reaped his beets, And he smoked his meats, And milked his cows in the morn. The farmer now Doesn't milk a cow. Nor toil through the weary year. His brow is high, ■■■, ■-■ ,;v- .EoT^fceviss^-jbi-* _:-.- .■■;■.;.:■-. Oiogical engineer.'' '■'■

No wheat nor corn, No-cows in the morn, No pangs of rheumatism. He looks with pride On his acres wide, Of .micro-organism. .■ ,