Hay Time (POEM)

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Baling Time In East Tennessee

Hay Time (POEM)

There is not much more fun than play’n

In the rolling fields we’re hay’n.

It is a seasonal feast

For us farmers at least

As we know that it’s time for the bale’n.

We wait for the day

When it is time to cut hay

All the friends, they load in the wagon.

They come out to give hand

To this hay fielding land

There isn’t a kid whose hind end is a drag’n.

Something special takes place

As we all help out in the race,

To get hay in the barn before rain.

It is almost sacred to us

Who lift bales while we cus

Because this hay is our livestock’s gain.

To put meat in the freezer

And food on the table

It is fall feasts that our hay’n days enable.

~ L. Davis, #thepoetfarmer

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