The Last Threshers Poem by Francis Duggan

Denny Sullivan and Jer Noonan, Tim Ring and Paddy Lane
They owned the last threshing machines and threshed the farmers grain
Their old machines outlived their use and were left to rust away
But I still hear them boo in farmer's yard on chilly Autumn day.

Back in the fifties change occured at quite a rapid pace
And the combine harvester came along to take the thresher's place
And that friendly boo we used to love became a memory
And with those who say the change was for the good I choose to disagree.

Threshing day was a busy day in every farm yard
And the neighbours came to lend a hand and the work at times was hard
But threshing was a cultural thing and when boo of old thresher died
The harmony it brought about too left the countryside.

Denny Sullivan and Jer Noonan, Tim Ring and Paddy Lane
The memory of their old machines are all that now remain
They owned the last threshing machines and they worked hard for their gain
And in farmyard on Autumn day they threshed the farmer's grain.