I don't rember where I saved this from, maybe from here. Anyway good one. joe
Old Tractors ,author unknown
Old tractor dismembered and shrouded in dust,
Her body disfigured with horrible rust.
Her day is long over, her plowing all done,
No more will her bodywork glint in the sun.
The spark plugs are gone, there's no fire inside,
Her pistons long idle, her spirit had died.
She rusts in dishonor. not even a grave,
Not much reward, for the service she gave.
In a field back of nowhere, abandoned, alone,
She's been robbed of her seat, that once was her throne.
No one to sing to the song of the gears,
Everything worthwhile has gone with the years.
In her prime she could plough fifteen acres a day,
The binder in Autumn considered as play.
With tanks full of fuel, she'd strike out at the dawn,
And still would be there when the last light had gone.
Plowing or harrows, she didn't much care,
The belt pull at harvest when Fall's in the air.
Her real work revealing what lay below ground,
Plowing each new year when Spring rolled around.
But yesterday's gone, must keep up with the times,
Not much call today, for pitch fork with tines.
Computerized cows let themselves out to graze,
And no doubt tomorrow, there'll be a new craze.
In a field back of nowhere, abandoned, alone,
She's been robbed of her seat, that once was her throne.
No one to sing to the song of the gears,
Everything worthwhile has gone with the years.
