The Grey Tractor, Ode to a Farmer


The little grey tractor inched its way along
forming silent patterns
in the paddock by the run,
while the man who seemed a part of it
sat mopping at his brow,
he'd be there when the sun came up
and be there when it set.
He was out there when the children came
and out there when they left,
he nursed them on the tractor
and taught them while he worked,
gave them all he had to give
while the tractor plodded on.
I'm sure the old grey Fergie's
heard him curse and swear at times,
when fences needed fixing
and the cows got in again,
when the bills were fairly growing
while the water seeped away.
She's heard his laughter echo
when his family came along
and felt his big heart breaking
when they left him all alone.
Now the years have passed away
and he's earned a little rest,
the one who said we'd make it and keeps me going on.

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