Tuesday, December 22, 2009

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.

Written by: Lewis Baumgartner


Susan said...

What a lovely poem. It's funny, I was always a town kid, but I still know what he means. I remember seeing farms on the outskirts of town and they were always busy. Puttin' up hay, mostly. We had a huge John Deere store at the edge of town and I loved seeing all the farm equipment and always wanted to learn to drive a big tractor, but never did. Perhaps one day.

Ali said...

That's a wonderful poem! Factory farms...ugh!

Happy Holidays,


Meadowbrook Cabin Primitives said...

Love the poem, Peanut ! It is so true ! My mother lived on a farm , so I can really relate to the poem ! I remember *slopping* the hogs at my grandmother's house and gathering eggs from the hen house at my aunt's house. My one uncle raised turkeys, and I can remember a huge sassafras tree stump and roots in the yard ! That smelled so good and tasted so good when the chipped bark was boiled to make sassafras tea. And now they say it causes cancer ? I also remember getting water from a trough in the spring house with a big dipper and that was the best tasting water I ever had !

There are a few farms left, and I live by a dairy farm, and it is comforting to see the red barn and the lights on in the evening.


bayrayschild said...

Now that's a beautiful poem and it takes me back to the most memorable and happy times I spent on my uncles farm as a child.

How i long for those days for my grandchildren.

Thanks for sharing it Peanut,

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