Thursday, 4 August 2011

Farm Dispersal Sales

Job to know where to start, and find things long forgotten,
Things we used like brushing hooks, n' pitch forks stale gone rotten,


At one time there used to be quite a few dispersal sales on the run up to March 25th when tenancies would be timed to change or end in retirement. Now there is only the odd one locally attracting a lot of interest from a wide area, these are timed to take place on a Saturdays when the maximum number of folk are able to attend. They are a social occasions with not every one going just to purchase, more often its an opportunity to have a look round the farm and building that otherwise you would not be able to do, (it's called being nosy), everyone in a cheerful and generally happy mood.
The prices attained at these sales are generally very good for the seller and sometimes neighbouring farms are allowed to enter their surplus items which bulk up the sale attracting even more folk.

It's a lot of work in the run up to sale date, items being dragged out of the back of sheds and buildings that have not seen the light of day in a good many years, it is these sort of things that attract collectors and enthusiasts of every kind.

During the sale when bidding gets brisk, there is banter as well as bidding with the price going beyond what the item was originally valued at, two bidders hanging on trying to out bid each other it all to the good of the out going farmer, and make for a cheerful and happy atmosphere.

Part used and pre-warn or worn out right down to scrap iron, everything goes, the rusty seized up, the rotten with woodworm, the bent and twisted, everything has to go



The Farm Sale

The years have come the years have gone, its time to sell the lot,
And now I've got to organize, the sale of all I've got,
To pull it out the sheds and then, n' lay it out in rows,
For all and everyone who comes, to have a dam good nose.

The tools and all machinery, bought it years ago,
Ploughed the land and worked it, encouraged crops to grow,
Harrowed all the grass in spring, soon as the Daff's appear,
Cattle would be turned out, and sold that big fat steer.

Job to know where to start, and find things long forgotten,
Things we used like brushing hooks, n' pitch forks stale gone rotten,
Shovels spades and muck forks, all standing where last used,
Some I've had a long time, and some they were abused.

Workshop that's a nightmare, the scrap ruck will increase,
Wading through the junk to find, that lost now found tailpiece
All the things you save as spares, but things move on apace,
Out dated now and far too small, with newer one replaced.

The tractor that's seen better days, reliable it has been,
Well used and got a loader on, could do with a dam good clean,
Worked it hard all day long, every day of the year,
Last day now it has arrived, and to the field must steer.

A second one it's older still, with a draughty cab,
Tyres worn and torn about, n' the paints a little drab.
Steering wobbles brakes no good, useful to have about,
Its winter when it wonner start, I have a dam good shout.

Be sorry to see an empty yard, and all the cleaned out sheds,
The damp old house abandoned, and empty old farmstead,
Silence now for few a weeks, until new folk move in,
Then once again start from new, new livestock make a din.

Countryman (Owd Fred)
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