An Hour With You~*~The Last Bale~*~

I was a farmer's wife,
And we worked hard on that old dirt farm.
Trying to beat the weather,
By watching for floods and storms.

You know when hay time comes,
The weather has to be just right.
You watch the hay until it's cured,
And get it in before the night.

If rain should come and ruin your bales,
Then all that work was in vain,
So we always tried to get our hay,
And stack it in before a drenching rain.

We raised cattle and chickens too,
And a hog for our own use.
We had ducks and other things,
We even had a goose.

We had our eggs from the chickens,
And dumplings from them too,
And home cured ham with red-eye gravy,
What else should a farmer do?

Living high on the hog we use to say,
That's what we said at home,
No fancy things to fall or break,
Simple things to call our own,

Now that we are older,
And life has slowed a bit,
We sit and think of all those times,
When the old fire place we lit.

There is comfort in all our work,
We can sit a while and dream.
For all we had, and was worthwhile.
We had it all it seemed.

Faye Reyenga © 3 / 8 / 2008
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