World's Worst Farmer
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I'm posting here some of the poems that I've written over the years. I'm
starting off with two. I have more and I will post them later. I just wanted
to get a couple of them up and see what kind of response I get. I would appreciate
it if you would let me know what you think.
These first two are ones that I recite in my program and There's No Lights On
In The Barn is my latest one.
Old Bill | Baby Chicks | There's No Lights on in the Barn
This first poem is titled, Old Bill. I wrote this poem in 1986 and I think
it is the only thing that I have done in every one of my shows since I began
speaking in 1987.
Bill was a farmer that lived next to us when I was growing up. He had Farmall
tractors and an old New Holland hay baler with a motor on it. He was an excellent
mechanic and I thought he could fix anything. Back in the middle eighties I had
a Farmall 350. I was out raking hay with it one day and I got to thinking about
Bill and his old tractors and how much he meant to me when I was a kid. By the
time I was finished raking the field, I had this poem pretty well worked out
in my mind and I came in that night and wrote it down.
This poem seems to touch a lot of people and after nearly every performance someone
will come up and tell me about their own Old Bill and ask for a copy. As I recite
this poem in my program I can picture Bill in my mind and I never get tired of
doing it. I think Bill would be proud.
I’m going to see Old Bill someday,
I always said,-- but never did.
Old Bill was the best pal I had,
When I was just a kid.
He used to tell me stories,
‘
Bout places near and far.
And Old Bill knew everything there was,
To know about a car.
And Old Bill always understood
When I talked of troubles that I had,
And I’d tell things to Bill,
That I wouldn’t tell my Dad.
I’d ride my bike to his place,
Nearly every day.
I thought I was helpin’ out,
But I’s prob’ly in the way.
But Old Bill never seemed to mind,
Though he’d often say to me,
"
Boy, you’ll never ‘mount to nothin’
That’s pretty plain to see."
And sometimes he would tell me,
"
Boy, I’m busy here today.
I ain’t got time to fool with you,
Just stay out of the way."
But if a couple days went by
And I hadn’t been around,
He’d call to see if I was sick,
And say, "Boy, I thought you’d drowned."
I used to help him on his farm,
Plantin’ corn and balin’ hay.
Cause I knew when the job was done,
I’d be sure to get some pay.
And he’d do things for me,
And course, --I never paid a dime.
He’d just say, "We’ll let it go,
An’ I’ll charge you double next time."
Then I grew to be a man
And I left Old Bill behind.
I never went to see him much,
I just didn’t have the time!
Then Old Bill grew old
And his health was gettin’ bad.
At last they put him in a home
And I thought then, "How sad!"
"I’m goin’ to see Old Bill someday,"
I’d often tell my wife.
"
Just to tell him thanks,
For his part in my life."
"Just to chat with him, and visit,
And help him pass a lonely day.
Yea, I’m goin’ by and see Old Bill,
First time I’m out that way!"
And his daughter told my wife,
That he often speaks of me.
Yea, I gotta get by and see Old Bill,
When I get some time that’s free.
Well, I went to see Old Bill today.
At his final resting place.
And as I thought about those years gone by,
The tears streamed down my face!
Yes, I cried a lot of tears today,
But not just cause Bill was dead.
The tears I cried, were tears of shame,
For the things I’d left unsaid.
Oh, why do we, in our busy life,
Just never find the time.
To cheer the heart of some dear friend,
That the years have left behind.
If I ever get the chance
And I hope someday, I will.
I pray, that I’ll be man enough,
To be some boy’s, Old Bill!
We got a hundred baby chicks,
A couple years ago.
Raise your own fried chicken,
That’s the way to go.
Now we knew, we’d save no money
When all expenses were wrote down
But they just taste so much better,
Thank what you buy in town.
We fixed up a brooder house
And made a little pen,
And waited like a couple kids,
For our chickens to come in.
We took ‘em from the box
And handled every chick with care.
They sure were mighty cute,
Just a runnin’ everywhere.
The first night we lost five chicks,
Thru a small crack in the door.
And over the next couple weeks,
The cats got fourteen more.
But we expected some of that,
‘
cause it’s usu’ly true,
When you’re raisin’ baby chicks,
You’ll likely lose a few.
One day when my wife and I,
Neither one were there,
Those chickens all escaped
And scattered everywhere.
Some were in the garden,
Pickin’ out the corn,
Two of them got in the house,
Thru a screen door that was torn.
Some were at the neighbors,
Some were even in the trees,
By the time we got ‘em all corralled,
We were down to forty-three!
When we finally got those chickens raised,
That meat cost seven bucks a pound!
Now they’re not that much better,
Than what you buy in town!
Many of us, especially those in my generation, lament the declining number
of family farms. We see multi-thousand acre operations, monstrous machinery,
agri-business mega-mergers and we realize that a way of life is fading fast.
We remember the way it was and we are sorry that our children, grandchildren
and future generations will most likely never know the pleasure of growing
up on a diversified family farm.
I was driving through the countryside one winter evening; not in any hurry, just
enjoying a leisurely drive. As I passed farmstead after farmstead, it suddenly
occurred to me that no one was out doing chores. I began to reminisce about my
days as a youth on the farm. Most everybody had crops and livestock . In my neighborhood,
usually beef cattle, a few hogs, chickens and maybe even some sheep. All the
kids had chores to do. I thought about how much things had changed in that 40
some year period and a melancholy feeling swept over me. This poem kind of describes
the way I was feeling. I hope you enjoy it.
There’s No Lights On In The Barn
Not so many years ago,
If you were to take a drive,
Across America's farmland
And thru the countryside;
If by chance your ride should happen,
As the day was nearly done,
Most every farmstead on the road,
Would have the barn lights on.
The farmer and a kid or two,
Or maybe even more.
Each one busy with a task,
Doin’ up the evenin’ chores.
Milk the cow, feed the chickens
And gather up the eggs.
Throw some hay down from the loft
And water the sow and pigs.
Sometimes my mind will wander back,
And I’ll recall those days, now gone,
Of peaceful winter evenings,
And the lights on in the barn.
The smell of all the cattle,
Mixed with the grain and hay.
To me it was a pleasing smell,
Though, to you, it may not sound that way.
And while filling up the water tank,
I’d watch the cats at play.
A nearly perfect ending,
To another busy day.
Then gazing toward the house,
I could see the kitchen light.
Momma’s fixin’supper,
To feed us all tonight.
And the warm glow from that window,
Made this country boy work hard,
To get in to that apple pie
And that chicken fried in lard.
But the trend today is larger,
And fewer family farms.
Not so many places left now,
With the lights on in the barn.
They tell us that it’s progress,
And nothin’ stays the same.
We must look toward the future,
And not the past from where we came.
And I know, that is true,
But tell me, what’s the harm?
If I feel a twinge of sadness,
Cause There’s No Lights On In The Barn.
Everything is gettin’ big,
And no one seems alarmed,
That the chickens and the hogs now,
Are mostly raised on Factory Farms.
We’ve taken out the fences,
And..the barn.... it’s been torn down.
It takes a lot of room,
To turn 16 rows around.
My favorite memories take me back,
To the way we used to farm.
To a peaceful winter evening,
With the lights on in the barn.
World's Worst Farmer
Lewis Baumgartrner
2180 County Rd. 230
Fulton, MO 65251
573-642-1183
E-Mail: lewis@worldsworstfarmer.com
Check out these sound bites and video clips from an actual performance by the World's Worst Farmer!
Audio Clips: Not My Cattle | Seed Corn Salesman | Velcro Marbles | Is There Another Man?
Video Clips: Velcro Marbles | Not My Cattle | Alt Crops | Closing