THE FARMER
—PRIZE— He's up at six on the chilly morn, To work and toil all day. To milk his cows, and feed the pigs And give the horses hay: -To plough the fields so fresh and green, And sow the turnip seeds. To free the flowering gardens Of the nasty choking weeds. And Sunday is his weekly rest— When all his work is done, He sits inside the airy porch Enjoying the country sun. —Prize of 1/- to Cousin Joyce Howden, MAC. (12), Mataura Island. —PRIZE— With plough and scythe the farmer toils, And reaps the golden grain, His sun-tanned face is wreathed in smiles, He ploughs and tills the plain. There’s cows to milk and pigs to feed, He does it with a smile, I’m sure that it’s his happy ways, That makes his work worth while. —Prize of 1/- to Cousin Marion Stobo, M.A., M.A.C. (14), 20 Wellington street.
—VERY HIGHLY COMMENDED—
—HIGHLY COMMENDED—
The breezy call begins the start of day,
I’d like to be‘a farmer, A-sawing down the trees, And digging wells and ditches In the warm spring breeze.
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, ' . The little sparrows sing their songs so gay, ' The flowers dancing in their wellkept bed..
I’d like to look round the sheep, Every night and mom; And ear-mark, and brand them After they were shorn.
The farmer wakens, for the call has
come; The cock’s-shrill clarion has passed
away, And through the window comes the shining sun, Awake! awake! awake! it is the day.
It’s a joy to see the farmer Ploughing up the earth,. And sewing swedes and turnips, For all that he is worth.
Across the fields he plods his weary way, The horses, standing ready for their toil, And on the seat he starts his working day, For so the fields are ploughed and turned to soil.
—2 marks to Cousin Eva Lake A.C., (14), Tussock Creek, Section 8, Invercargill-Glencoe R.D.
The night creeps in, the day of toil is done, The birds have fluttered home from sight, And day has gone, with it the shining sun, All is so peaceful till the dawn of light. —3 marks to Cousin Helen Dalgamo A.C., (15), 71 Grey street, Gladstone. —HIGHLY COMMENDED— The farmer is a busy man, He works from mom till night— Working in his fields all day, He works with all his might. He tills the soil in early spring, So that his stock may feed On turnips, straw, and chaff. Which grow from a tiny seed. He rises early in the mom—• Awakened from his sleep By the moo-ing cows. And the bleating sheep. —2 marks to Cousin May Horton (14), Tussock Creek. Section 3, Glencoe R.D,
—VERY HIGHLY COMMENDED— Bronzed by the sun, and straight, and strong, The farmer works as the day is long. Up with the lark, at dewy morn, To plough, or sow, or to harvest
—HIGHLY COMMENDED— I am a farmer, Working hard all day, Trying to make a little money For my bills to pay.
corn. Health on his sun-tanned cheek a-glow, His trials seen only by those who
First to milk the cows, Then to separate. I then go to the fields And plough ’til it is late.
know Worry, and endless grind and toil, That go to tilling the stubborn soil. Gathering lines about his eyes Are worn by glare of the earth and skies, Only to those who know the land Is bome the hardship that he must
stand. Whistling he goes, with oft a song, And what cares he though the day is long, Better to work, with Nature near. And see her beauty, and know her
care, Far from the noise and burning heat Of lighter work in a city street.
—3 marks to Cousin Isobel McKenzie M.A.C., Dipton.
—HIGHLY COMMENDED— A farmer’s life is a busy one. He works from morn till night, No forty-hour week for him, He starts work at day light.
On fine days he ploughs his fields, Then sows his oats and rye. At evenings when he comes to tea, He sits down with a sigh.
For another day’s work is done, And he can rest till morn, But in the morning when he wakes, The sheep are there to be shorn.
And so a farmer’s life goes on, With an occasional treat between, But happiest of all is he When the golden wheat can be seen.
—2 marks to Cousin Vera Lake A.C., (13), Tussock Creek, Section 8, Glencoe R.D.
When my tea is finished, On my bed I lie, And sleep a perfect sleep Until the dawn is nigh. —2 marks to Cousin Pattie Smith (14), Glencoe R.D.
—VERY HIGHLY COMMENDED— The farmer tills his soil each day. And makes his ground so fine. Other times he rakes the hay, With horses strong and fine.
And when the day is almost done, He comes trudging home, To milk the cows, one by one, And then the day is done. —2 marks to Cousin Helen Goldsmith A.C., (12), Dacre.
Clues Across 1. Something you have in tha garden. 5. Rest. 6. Often comes after I. 7. The bottom. Clues Down 1. Vegetable. 2. Animal. 3. Arthur Sutton’s initials. 4 Needed for fishing whitebait,
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ST19371204.2.134.24
Bibliographic details
Southland Times, Issue 23374, 4 December 1937, Page 6 (Supplement)
Word Count
876THE FARMER Southland Times, Issue 23374, 4 December 1937, Page 6 (Supplement)
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