On Uncle Ebenezer's farm, Upon a summer's day, The farm hands at the crack of dawn Went out to harvest hay. A motley crowd is gathered now Upon those fields at play: With golf suits and with funny sticks They scare the crows away. They're just as early on their job Of runnin' 'round and 'round, And knockin' balls about with sticks Until they're lost and found. Like turkey buzzards in a field, Just desecratin' ground, Consumin', not producin'— Oft with a gurglin' sound. The movie bunch has got 'em beat, For they get five per day, With costumes also furnished free, While these nuts have to pay. I wish the gang at Washington Would take their sticks away, And pass a law, from twenty-four, Twelve hours to hit the hay. For now up at the Huntington You can't get breakfast late, The golfers, they are up and gone Before it's half-past eight: The boss has closed the dining room Before I've time to dress, 'Tis just that crazy bunch of guys That gives me weariness. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IDYLLS OF THE KING: THE PASSING OF ARTHUR by ALFRED TENNYSON THE BLUET by W. I. LINCOLN ADAMS SONNET: ENGLAND by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SPRING WATER by KENNETH SLADE ALLING THE SPIRIT AND THE CUP by A. E. ANDERSON PSALM 137. THE JEWISH CAPTIVE by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |