.7. Pea Pulling Poem by David Threadgold

The farmer would stop
We all piled in his lorry
And when it got full
He said no more so sorry

We sat where we could
Often made brand new friends
When the farmer went fast
Round the tightest of bends

With the wind in our hair
Through the county-side crops
To a field full of peas
Where the farmer just stops

Climbed down with our buckets
We each picked a row
All eager to start
When the farmer said go

We filled up the buckets
That filled up a sack
As quick as we could
Running forward and back

A ticket was issued
For each sack-full weighed
At the end of the day
We queued to get paid

Worn out and bedraggled
The old lorry beckoned
And the few quid we’d made
Had been well earned we reckoned


© 2008 David Threadgold
Rambling Riddles & Rhymes