After the pump breaks a pipe, you dig a ditch,
And when it's fixed, you start the motor, push
The wheel-line over mud and through the corn,
And start the pump again to water crops.
At Dead Man's Slide, the D-4 tilts a bit,
The harrow kicks up choking dust; you shush
Fears that the yellow CAT will roll without warning
And squish you like ground meat in butcher shops.
Covered with dust from head to toe, you hear
The bell ring from the house, and hurry down
The hill to dine on steak, potatoes, peas,
And corn, corn on the cob, fresh-picked, you smear
The butter on, your brother plays the clown,
And Grandma offers ice cream, if you please.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful write, grandma offers ice-cream