Thursday, 4 August 2011

A New Bloke on the Block (Dan ------att) Cows cows cows

This is about the new neighbour who has moved in to the farm that had had a farm sale (see previous blog)
Were all watching, (you know what farmers are like) the work he's doing making ready for a large herd of dairy cows. In fact the cows move here only two days ago and he is up and milking.

Milking of any sort is a young mans job,  particularly when your talking into the multiple hundreds of cows, but having seen the cows going through a parlour with 30 units crossed over to 30 more cows the other side, it was very impressive.

A New Bloke on the Block (Dan ------att)

There’s a new bloke or’ the bank, and I think his name is ------att,
Seen him in the distance working, his name is Dan or somatt,
Looking round the fields and house, working out his dream,
A farm all in a circle fence, and through the fields a stream.

 So its Dan he’s moved to S-----ford, ---fords Farm is his new pile,
Getting sorted out he is, new seeds new fencing takes a while,
He’s doing a good old clearout, round the building levelled out,
There to dig some footings, for the plans for new layout.

 He’s met the neighbours round about, all keep their eye on him,
New ideas he has got, he’s young and strong and slim,
Working hard from dawn till dusk, to turn the place around,
To make a place to run a herd, his future is hoofbound.

 He’s working every day that comes, well into the night,
To get the farm all ready, for new parlour for the site,
A hole he dug for slurry, it would make a swimming pool,
So deep and wide and long it is, it’s only a big cesspool.

He’s building brand new road ways, for the cows to walk,
To and from the furthest fields, a concrete sleeper balk,
Clean feet clean tails clean udders, its clean cows all the way,
To stop the poaching, stop the mess, cowman has the say.

Dan he’s turned his hand right now, to drive a digger hard,
To level out the site he needs, to build a brand new yard,
Concrete circle by the parlour, for the cows to stand,
With a great big backing gate, into the parlour they’re crammed.

The old barbed wire now all gone, new posts hammered in,
Electric fencing all around, for paddock grazing to begin,
Water in big trough to drink, for cows to quench their thirst,
So they come back in for milking, with udders fit to burst.

But Dan he’s got a horse, that is grazing all the grass,
Grass that could be turned to milk, no profit there alas,
A mare in milk udder small, two teats short and fat,
Mare’s milk on his Cornflake, nothing left for the poor old cat.

So come on Dan were all watching you, ya conna mek a mess,
Were looking for the cows to come, and hope it’s a big success,
And looking for the milk tanker, pounding (£) up the lane,
And staggering back with all the milk, a three decade campaign.

Owd Fred (Countryman)

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)