Old wickerwork baskets
All covered with mud
Carried by many
To pick humble spud
Down on the farm
Tractors turn up the prizes
Lots of fresh spuds
Come in all different sizes
In mud laden whellies
The pickers rush forth
Working the field
From the south to the north
Full wicker baskets
Fill trailers to tops
Rushed away quick
To sell fresh in the shops
© 2008 David Threadgold
Rambling Riddles & Rhymes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem