Here’s another winter poem. Plumb true happening from years back with my Dad.
Feedin’ with Gramps
It was gettin’ down right nippy
Headin’ ‘tords Christmas day
Snow had been pilin’ up pretty high
I was feedin’ lots of hay
Gramps went along one day
When I harnessed up to feed
He’d driven lots of teams before
But didn’t move with speed
We drove up to a stack yard
Pitched us on a load
Pulled it in behind some trees
There damn sure weren’t no road
We set in to pitchin’ hay off
Scattered along either side
Then I spoke to the team to move ahead
But Gramps weren’t set for the ride!
Down he went with a yell!
Should’a warned him to get set
When the tugs tightened we damn sure moved
Was he mad? Oh you bet!
‘Poligised the best I could
Proceeded to pitch more hay
Figured he’d be ready next time
Sure hoped I hadn’t ruined his day
I never even thought
Just said ”Girls. Get up.”
By golly he hadn’t learned nuthin’
Folded like a whimperin’ pup!
Again I offered apologies
But it kind’a tickled me too
Next time I said, “Ready? Get up.”
He almost made it too!
But he didn’t quit make the move
Down he goes again!
Cussin and squallin, hollerin’, bout bawlin’
I apoligiesed, but damn sure grinned!
After that he was ready
Wouldn’t hardly even move his fork
Just throw a little hay and jab back quick
Hung on to that handle for torque
We finished and headed on home
Father and son’s work all done
Rest of that winter he didn’t help me again
Dang! I sure missed the fun