Potato Picking Poem by john (called jack) wren

Up to the farm house, pail in hand,
Proud to be one of a happy band
Who chatter and laugh together
While keeping one eye on the weather.
Aboard the trailer, top unsealed,
And away in haste to the potato field,
Trailer unhitched at a central spot
We hurry with haste to our plot
Sack in hand, sun on our back
In great excitement we fill our sack,
With choice potato by the score
Plucked from the Earth's top most drawer,
One eye is kept on Elsie Vickers
Who is prone to show her knickers,
And that redhead Mona Clegg, seems
Quite content to flash a leg.
You need some perks with this job
Along with tatties and a couple of bob.