Saturday, 5 April 2014

Memories of Olden Day's

It makes you wonder as to what the world will look like in another lifetime's distance ahead. Most jobs about the farm were done by hand in the 1940's, tractors were just coming in.
Milking machines just starting to get about, father was the first to have one in our district, he broke his arm and could not milk by hand for a few weeks. Loose housing of milking cows and milking parlours 1960's followed by the invention of cubicles.
Fertilizer in paper lined hessian sacks, then the plastic bags came in, now in bulk or large half ton bags.
Where will it all go by say 2060  and beyond.

Memories of Olden Days

Memories of olden days, back then when I were a lad,
Of things we did and said and learnt, copied from me dad,
Of learning how to talk and walk, and manners got to learn,
Tell the truth and honest be, and respect you’ve got to earn.

Never cheek your elders, and address them with respect,
Speak only when you’re spoken to, and answer them direct,
Muttering and Laughing, in your hand it is the worst,
Hold it back don’t let it out, even if you fit to burst.

He taught us how to use his tools, and how to work real hard,
How to earn an honest crust, in the workshop cross the yard,
To make things useful on the farm, repair them if they broke,
Keep the place all tidy, he was a very fussy bloke.

He taught us how to plant the seeds, in garden and the fields,
And as they grow look after them, to grow and give good yields
Harvest time to bring it in, and store for winter use,
To feed the family, feed the stock, to run out’s no excuse.

To rear the calves and pigs and hens, and feed them every day,
Milk the cows and collect the eggs, and sell without delay,
Pigs to take to bacon weight, and sows to get in pig,
And start the job all over again, it’s always been that way.

Thinking back orr seventy years, the basic things the same,
Treat others how, you would like, others to treat you the aim,
Manners make’eth man were told, its only yourself to blame,
Rules of life are rules to keep, it’s always been the same

Owd Fred

Farmers Skills

As you may appreciate, this is written from experience.
You get much better at jobs the more practice you have, so while it may look a bit slapdash, it can mean the jobs done before the weather breaks.
Time and tide wait for no man, or so the saying goes, and if ya doing sommat while waiting for the breakdown man, ya may as well do it ya sen.

Farmers Skills know no Bounds

Over the years you learn most skills, enough to get ya by,
Welding plumbing laying bricks, ya mind ya must apply,
Laying concrete with a slope, grids and drains dig in,
Mend the roofs and spouting, protect the stock within.

A builders job is in his hands, a trowel and shovel need,
Pegs and line and spirit level, practice now for speed,
Anyone can do the job, an eye for accuracy to lay,
Bricks and blocks to make a wall, mistakes are on display.

Plumbing now with plastic pipes, and easy joints push fit,
Gone are the old iron pipes, a lot of work admit,
Cut with hacksaw threads to cut, paste and hemp wound on,
Elbows tee’s and feral joints, with pipe wrench now all gone.

A breakdown now, repair with weld, another job to learn,
Clean the rust off on the joint, with weld rod at angle burn,
Steady flow and curled up ash, or that is how should be,
Mine resembles pigeon ***, in lumps and holes for me.

Old nuts and bolts of any size, they build up in the shed,
But finding one the right size, too thick too short the thread,
When ones found that’s okay, but now you need a pair,
Then the jobs impossible, enough to mek ya swear.

Cotter pins they’re soft and bend, can never get them out,
Top and tail it breaks off, in hole with rust we clout,
The right size nail comes handy, tail end bent round double,
Get you moving, harvest time, and gets you out of trouble.

Farmer’s skill’s know no bounds, most thing he will tackle,
Jack of all trades master of none, but saves a lot of hassle,
Do the job to how he likes, no one to tell that’s wrong,
Confidence in home made skills, build and make real strong.

Owd Fred