Clock rang five, time to go, with sleep on my mind, I rose
Threw on clothes, gave a yawn, in an hour's time I'd
see the dawn.
Shut the door and stumbled lightly, saw the tractor
and mumbled slightly Swung a leg, climbed aboard, said good morning to
Tractor whined on down the road, to the fields in the morning cold
We all piled out and stood there sullen, then a voice
called out "boys, let's get going"
Leaves hung wet, plant bent low, a kilo of mud clung to our soles
Knives slashed up and bunches fell, we cursed mighty but carried them well
When at last just one bunch to go, I said "What the hell" told this fellow to come
There it hung, green and cold, fifty kilo, maybe more Both arms hugged it, a nod I gave, the knife he raised,twas here I'd meet my match
Knife slashed down, stem cracked aloud, a groan told
I held it, faltered once, stepped back lightly, shoulder aching badly, knees bent low but one place to go, out of here and quickly
Like a lumbering bear I stumbled on through the yellowing leaves still moist with dew
Trailer in sight, my journey at end, I staggered painfully slow, mud laden boots making it hard to go, Reaching the end, relief from my sorrow, then the