Days Of Yore Poem by Robert Edgar Burns

Two hours before the sun came up,
I’d be busy with my chores.
And I knew that later after school,
There would be so many more.

The work at times was very hard,
Fixing fence or pitching hay.
And I even pulled a plow or two,
Until the daylight burned away.

My muscles often were very sore,
Though my arms were like pure steel.
But numbness settled in at times,
So the pain I could not feel.

And then an uncle I never knew,
Said you must report today.
I was freed from those awful chores,
But sent so far away.

Now I look back on those bygone days,
And remembered those sweaty chores.
Those really were what I’d call now,
My good old days of yore!