Farm Collector


R. D. 1, Kearney, Missouri

Old Bess and Billy stand forlorn -there out of style, and so
-the Boss has called a trucker and the old team has to go.

It’s speed, and yet more speed, the cry of the world gone
speed-mad. But a warm and faithful team discarded makes me mighty

The tractor doesn’t whiney for its oats and hay at dawn, it
gulps its oil and gasoline, and then it’s out and gone.

Old Bess must fight the flies and show displeasure with her
ears. But if she gets stuck With a load, she seldom strips her

But tractors, trucks and aero planes are things you must obtain,
if you would keep your place upon the ladder labeled FAME.

Yet life is made of little things, and there is a loss we think,
when sonny never get to ride the team to get a drink.

  • Published on Mar 1, 1953
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