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Story ID:7805
Written by:Monte Leon Manka (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:Poem
Location:Hemet CA. USA
Person:Not a Farmer Chelsea Kansas Kid
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The doctors, lawyers
Dentists, scientists and such
Are lauded for these great professions
But the lowly farmer not so much

Working nine to five
Five days a week
Free on Saturday and Sunday
Makes these professions quite unique.

They belong to the Masons, Elks
The Country Club of course
Kiwanis Club, Moose club
To these professions a vital source

Wearing highly polished shoes
Driving those fancy cars
Eating at the best restaurants
Drinking at the nicest bars.

Champagne and fine wines
Bourbon and aged Scotch’s too
Steak, Lobster, Caviar
But what would they do

If it wasn’t for that dirt farmer
In his overalls covered in dust
Providing foods for
The upper crust?

The farmer works
Six days a week
Takes it easy on Sunday
To hear the preacher speak.

His clothes are dirty and sweaty
When he’s working in the field
Plowing, disking, harrowing, planting
Praying for a bountiful yield,

For the proper amount of moisture
To grow wheat, oats and rye
Hoping his yearly income
Will be high

More than last year
That pesky drought
Just about broke him
What it’s all about.

Drives and old Chevy Pickup
Adorned with scratches and dents
Loaded with oil and gas
For the farm implements.

His boots are scuffed
He eats at the local café
Maybe a bottle of home brew
At the end of a hard day.

His farming education
Has been handed down
Year after year
From father to son

His education never ceases
He learns day by day
By mistakes by him or others
Give up—NO WAY

It takes a hardy man
Of muscle, guts, and brain
A strong back
And seldom does complain

I knew at the age of nineteen
I was never meant to be
A farmer
It was plain to me

So I headed for the city
Farming I didn’t have the knack
Happy with my new life
Seldom looking back.
Monte L. Manka 02-113-12