The Suitor
Uphill I walked it was still dark, had to be at
the farm a five and milking time. Hard westerly
wind makes the climb tough soon the cattle will
be mooing in their pens, the boss grumpy, I’m
hungry and no time to eat; milking eight cows
by hand is no joke. End of the last hill I see
the farm, there is light in the kitchen,
Emma, my dog, barks, stops when she hears my
steps, ten to five, morning light I stop and catch
my breath, they are not going to think that I was
hasting for them I’ll have a quick mug of coffee
a slice of ham, just like any other day, they will
wonder and the maids whisper, but not ask where
and with whom, I spent the night.
