I love this poem by Connie Ross from Henty in NSW I am sure you will too
‘Who’d be a farmer’, I hear you say.
Well, it’s really quite hard to explain!
While we scan the sky and the weakest stock die …
We’re hoping and praying for rain!
So many decisions just have to be made;
What to sow, when to plough, what to cull.
Unreliable markets for livestock and grain,
Indeed, life will never be dull!
Long hours in the paddock and office as well.
The seasons dictate what we do.
Custodians only of this fragile land,
Demanding the best we can do!
Yes, prescription farming’s the name of the game,
For cropping’s a whole new frontier.
Alone, on a tractor, the moon coming up,
No chance for a sleep now, it’s clear.
Mustering sheep, marking calves, spraying weeds or whatever,
There’s always more work to be done.
But despite the long hours, there are many rewards,
And farming can also be fun!
A sense of achievement… a job well done,
When you’ve put up a brand new fence.
Or sinking a dam, maybe sowing a crop,
Well, its hard work … and yes, common-sense!
When you pull a live calf and the odds were not good,
Then he takes those first steps to his mother.
Well, it makes it worthwhile and you can’t help but smile,
Farming’s a life like no other!
It’s a joy to be tailing a big mob of sheep
When the land wears a mantle of green.
On a horse, or a bike, with a good dog in charge;
Other farmers will know what I mean.
At the end of the day when the light ebbs away
And the quick pulse of life seems to slow.
In the hush of the night all the cares of the day
Seem to melt with the sunset’s warm glow.
Despite droughts, floods and bushfires, the spirit lives on.
Most farmers just never give in! ‘
Cause, despite the frustration, we’re feeding the nation
And that’s quite a battle to win!
Makes you soon realise, what matters in life.
‘Who’d be a farmer?’ you say.
Well, if I had a fresh chance to do it all over …
I still would choose no other way!
By Connie Ross, Henty