Farm Sale
No I am not having a farm sale here, but a couple of years ago a
neighbouring farm sold up and I sent quite a few items up to be sold back then.
Now another neighbour is having a dispersal sale and again I am contributing
some more of my dead stock, to be sold at his sale this April 11th .
(2014).
I have been selling off items of machinery privately over the last
three years as and when a buyer came up, but you get down to the last few thing
that could still be worth selling for further use. I have been scrapping all
that what I call "useful reusable metal", you know, the sort of metal
that you can make or mend stuff with, but it’s got to go at some point in time.
Everything is on a priority list, and I keep gleaning
through my workshop scrap heap, some of my tools are the old Whitworth and AF
spanners, but I fear they are getting frightfully close to going to the
crusher.
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.
Owd Fred