Shearing – by Lorna Madson

Monday, 06 February 2012 by

I thought it was time for another poem as seeing as a few farmers around here have been shearing, I thought this was appropriate. Enjoy.   Shearing – by Lorna Madson I still recall shearing at Dad’s place, All those early starts, Learning to skirt the fleeces, Pulling off the daggy parts. I remember Dad sewing up sheep that were cut, With a needle and big piece of cotton, Sometimes we helped him yard up the sheep, Or bring in some the dog had forgotten. There’s a definite art to throwing a fleece, One that i’m still yet to master, The only time I ever tried, Was a complete and utter disaster! It was always a guess as to when we would shear, Dad never knew quite when they’d come, But you always knew by their thirsty look, When they were about to do the last run. Mum prepared meals and worked in the shed,


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