The Joys Of Farmin'.

This was a favourite of a good friend of my Dads, he used to
recite it with such venom that you could picture him clearly in
that cowyard in his early years.

Dad assured me however, he had never ever lived in the bush.

The Joys Of Farmin’

We spent our early years a learnin’ the joys of livin’ on the land

Where the old man had a dairy, and we milked the cows by hand

And they used to take some findin’ in the dawn light cold and bleak

For they’d hide down in the timber in the paddock by the creek.

But we somehow always found ‘em scattered here and there

And we’d send ‘em flyin’ homeward with old Rover yappin’ in the rear

They’d stamp into the cowyard stand and chew the cud

‘Till we wandered out to milk ‘em in the slush and in the mud.

They were sulky stubborn beggars but of all the cows we had

There wasn’t one could try the patience of a silent sufferin’ lad

Like that baldy brindle heifer that we bought at Riley’s sale

Your woes were just beginnin’ when you got her in the bail

You’d slip the leg rope on her and if you weren’t mighty quick

She’d lob you in the mullock with a well directed kick

Well you’d belt her with the leg rope and bang her with the stool

But she never took much notice she was stubborn as a mule

She was obstinate and crafty and her tits were sore to boot

And we used to fight like blazes as to who would milk the brute

She’d bind you with her patience ‘till she caught you off your guard

Then swing the mud caked tailpiece and cop you good and hard

Oh the tricks she played upon us nearly drove us into fits

But we sold her to the butcher and we reckoned we were quits.

When the old man had his breakfast he’d mooch about the shed

But he never took on milkin’ he’d never learned he said

And we’d a shrewd suspicion that he never meant to try

But we always did our duty‘ neath his stern paternal eye

For he came from Tipperary where they don’t do things by halves

And we had to wash the buckets and we had to feed the calves

Then we’d gobble down our breakfast and set off with books and slate

To the school house at the crossing and get whacked for bein’ late

Where the master, honest fellow tried hard throughout the day

To impart his knowledge to us but our brains were all astray

And he couldn’t seem to realize our poor dejected wits

Couldn’t rise above the cowyard and our job of pullin’ tits

But I’ve bade goodbye forever to the slushy boggy yard

Where all me dreams were shattered and all me hopes were marred

I’m now livin’ in the city and I rarely see a cow

But the thought of Riley’s heifer sets me blood a-boilin’ now

And when ere I hear the verses of some sentimental bard

Singin’ of the joys of farmin’ I’m always on me guard

And should I chance to meet him I’ve registered a vow

I’ll place more than laurels on his corrugated brow

And I warn all future parents if you’ll save your kids from harm

For the love of mike don’t take ’em within cooee of a farm

For my life was sadly blighted and me young dreams flew to bits

From those precious hours wasted in the cowyard pullin’ tits

Author unknown