Requiem To The Family Farm

Now hear me young Landsmen, True Sons of the Soil,
Do not squander youths’ vigour in long years of toil.
Mark well sage advice, it’s a wise way to learn,
Than to slave all your days for such meagre return.

The work more demanding, the hours just as long,
It unmans the weak and it weakens the strong.
If he owns no broad acres the unceasing grind,
Can leave a man crippled, soul, body and mind.

Poets laud Rural Idyll! Well let me tell you!
That day is long passed, were it ever so true.
For the food you produce there is little to say,
Everybody must eat, yet too few wish to pay.

Though in menial profession men still may walk tall,
While frustration and grief stalk the bureaucrats’ thrall.
Every form which you fill serves to compound the strain,
If they don’t break your heart they will addle your brain.

All government bounty specious bait for the trap,
When its’ led you astray, they turn off the tap.
Bitter years of experience have spawned this belief,
There’s a hidden agenda, to make you a thief.

 When there’s wills to be read this stark truth I declare,
“Hard enough to do right, if they try to be fair.”
At roulette or poker there’s small chance to win.
Yet how many lose all putting faith in their kin?

Renounce now this calling graved deep in your soul,
And seek you elsewhere to divine your life’s role.
Forsake this cruel Siren, nor pause to look back,
Her grip more relentless than whisky or crack.

What with accident, illness and all else to betide,
More than three in a thousand commit suicide.
If fortune forsakes, raise this Spectre of Dread,
Confronting old age, with no roof for your head.

David Kelly