THE FARMER’S DAY.
Sing a song of farmers, tip at early morn, With four-and-tivonty chores to do Before the breakfast horn. When the breakfast’s over, . There’s iittle to bo done, Except to plough the redder And let tho harrows run, And mow the sheep and prune the beets And curry up the swine, And shear the liens and dig tho hay And shoe the gentle kine. And saw the wheal and rake the rye rind wash and dross the land, And things lino that widen city folks Can never understand. —‘Life.’
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/STEP19121129.2.29.7
Bibliographic details
Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXXIV, Issue 82, 29 November 1912, Page 6
Word Count
91THE FARMER’S DAY. Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXXIV, Issue 82, 29 November 1912, Page 6
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