Imagine an era that’s diff’rent from now,
When times were not better, but pleasing, somehow.
It’s the year 1950, when farming was done
By Mother and Father and Daughter and Son.

With tractors and horses they worked on the land.
Lacking equipment, they managed by hand:
Tilling and planting and tending the crop,
Harvesting, storing--their work didn’t stop.

Family members in morning and eve
Had responsibilities they couldn’t leave.
With milk pails and pitchforks they chored twice a day,
Milking cows, pumping water, and feeding cows hay.

They fed mash to white chickens and corn to red hogs,
Milk to the kittens and scraps to the dogs.
To a team of grand horses with shiny roan coats
They fed mounds of grass hay and two cans of clean oats.

I’ve written some tales in narrative rhyme
Showing my family spending their time
Being together for work and for fun
And aiming to make every day a good one.

Each Farm Country Tale is my humble attempt
To characterize a specific event.
To satisfy readers’ desires for pleasure,
With fact I’ve mixed fancy in measure for measure.

My fam’ly consists of my father and mother,
My one younger sister and one younger brother.
Joey’s five, Maggie’s nine, and I’m Jimmy, just ten.
Now a Farm Country Tale I will gladly begin.

Copyright 2000, USA, by Gordon W. Fredrickson