Tim Lucey

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To The Plough Horse

Its up and down, up and down
As seagulls swoop and squawk
To grab a worm from fresh soil turned
To finish off this bauk.
Its up and down, up and down
Those strong and feathered feet
With measured stride and willing pride
Another stetch complete.

Its up and down, up and down
Monotony is strong
A hare jumps up and crosses o'er
Those furrows straight and long
A plover calls its diving flight
Distracting weary eyes which
Follow up that long straight line
That flows twixt hedge and ditch

Its up and down up and down
The headland beckons me
Perhaps a rest beneath the boughs
Of yonder tall Oak tree
No, up and down up and down
From sun up to sun down
With sweat streaked face and gentle pace
The field will all turn brown.

Its up and down, up and down
The ploughmans hand will guide
Each twelve inch furrow straight and true
And lay it on its side
Its up and down, up and down
The chink of harness chain
Blends quietly with the sound of earth
Raised from its flat domain.

As up and down, up and down
The weary hours do pass
The mind dreams on of oats and chaff
And gently waving grass.
Just one more up and one more down
And then its time to go
Back to the farm as sunset tints
With fiery orange glow
The trees and fields and winding track
That leads to our meadow.

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