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#1 2014-03-27 21:43:09

confused
A.C.E. Addicted
From: Vermilion, AB
Registered: 2011-09-20
Posts: 889

Poem

I love books.  My father and grandfather before me did also so some of the books on my shelves are pretty old and some aren't in very good shape. In looking for a certain book today I got sidetracked (what's new?) when I found an old very battered up copy of Rudyard Kipling poems. Tucked in the pages were a lot of poems that been cut out of papers over the years. Many of them from WWII years. I'm not sure when the one I've copied here was written but if anyone knows anything about the author, it would be interesting to know more about him.

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#2 2014-03-27 22:16:52

confused
A.C.E. Addicted
From: Vermilion, AB
Registered: 2011-09-20
Posts: 889

Re: Poem

Not sure how that happened either but I didn't intend to post it quite so quick.        WHEAT NUMBERS by T. Longbotham, in the Bassano Times
                                                                                                                     The guy who did the threshing said t'would go a Number One
                                                                                                                     But this I rather doubted as it slowly did run.
                                                                                                                     Then the neighbours round did gather, as you know they love to do,
                                                                                                                     And they shouted out in chorus: "It's a darned good Number 2."
                                                                                                                     On the way I met the banker, waiting hopefully for me,
                                                                                                                     And after meditation he pronounced it Number Three.
                                                                                                                     So getting quite impatient I departed on the run
                                                                                                                     And by sneaking past some other guys, the elevator won.
                                                                                                                     There the buyer looked it over, put a handful in his cheek,
                                                                                                                     Spat it out across the driveway, and to me did kindly speak;
                                                                                                                     "It's a Four, of that I'm certain, better ship it right away.
                                                                                                                     For I wouldn't care to buy it, as the Market's down today."
                                                                                                                     So I told him just to ship it to the East or to the West,
                                                                                                                     To Timbictoo or Ballyhoo, where e'er it seemed the best;
                                                                                                                     Then I sat me down in patience to await that joyful day
                                                                                                                     When for all my earnest labours I'd receive a little pay.
                                                                                                                     Soon there came a tiny missive by early morning mail,
                                                                                                                     And I staggered in my anger ere I lay me down to wail --   
                                                                                                                     Sure that grader was a creature that could use a farmer rough
                                                                                                                     For in his utter blindness, he did make it Five and Tough!
                                                                                                                     Wrathful at the fierce injustice, re-inspection I did claim;
                                                                                                                     And I pawned my Sunday top-coat to provide the cost of same.
                                                                                                                     Came the answer in a fortnight, raising heck within my camp,
                                                                                                                     For I fainted when I read it: "Re-inspection - Six and Damp".                   

Just thought there might be some people in agriculture who sort of could relate to this.

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