Harvest Festivals Poem by John Carter Brown

My wife had done the washing
the clothes were on the line
along with all her undies
and also some of mine

In just a while, and almost dry
she brought them all inside
and put them on the maiden
'til they were fully dry

And when they were I asked her,
"shall I lend a hand,
In laying them away? "
she said, "yes of course, you can."

Now, we were young and newly wed,
then the conversation went,
"don't touch the harvest festivals"
I knew not what she meant.

"Harvest festivals" she cried
in tones as sharp as pin,
"are what I call my knickers...
All is safely gathered in."

John Brown March 2024