I’m standing in the field.
The winter scars of frostbite
Have nearly all been healed.
And drink in springtime air,
To have this job and still get paid
Almost seems unfair.
There are things about this job
That have to do with luck.
Like over there where you see
My tractor very stuck.
It’s all my fault, of that I’m sure;
There’s no one else to blame.
If anyone should question that,
My wife would say the same.
There’s a man who works for me,
His judgment’s a safe bet.
He knows from on that tractor seat
Just which spots are too wet.
The problem is he wasn’t there
In my time of need,
Because I sent him off to town
To get a load of seed.
The line was long, he had to wait.
He wasn’t coming back.
Here comes my wife bringing lunch
In a paper sack.
“Dear,” I said, “I’m glad you’re here.
We’re falling some behind.
“If you would help us to catch up,
It really would be kind.”
You know the look I got from her
If you have been wed.
It means you must have fallen down,
And firmly struck your head.
I knew I had to make it sound
As simple as I could,
Yet tell her all about the job
So she’d know what she should.
“It’s almost just like topping beets
Without the rows to guide you.
Just keep the worked-up line you see
Over there beside you.”
I sent her off without much more
In the way of training.
Thoroughly convinced that now
On progress we were gaining.
This story could go on and on,
There are things I shouldn’t tell.
Let’s leave it all alone and say,
Things didn’t go so well.
The challenges in store.
When you ask your wife to do a job
She has never done before.