The Old Barn

You know you're in the country,
When you spot a big old barn...
Once the hub of all activity,
The heart and soul of farm.

It's uses were quite varied,
The farmer's greatest tool...
With stanchions for the milking herd,
And pegs to hang milk stool.

A passel of some hungry cats,
Would sit so patiently...
Hoping for a squirt of milk,
That might be passed out free.

The farmer sat on his milk stool,
A pail between his legs...
While his wife would search and look,
To find a nest of eggs.

In far corner of the big barn,
A pen was set aside...
For newborn calves residing there,
Their mothers' joy and pride.

Up overhead and high above,
The floor of loft was seen...
The scent of new hay wafted down,
Cut fresh and cured light green.

Stored in the loft for days to come,
When winters winds would roar...
Held back as best it could be done,
By barn's red sliding door.

The barn was where we gathered,
On every rainy day...
Kept us warm and dry as well,
With room to hide and play.

The house is gone,its been torn down,
So many years long past...
The barn still stands just like it did,
For it was built to last.

A tribute to an era,
From our childhood and our past...
Yet few remain still standing,
And are disappearing fast.

(c) 08/07/08 Loree (Mason) O'Neil

Photo: The old barn is on the farm of J E Marrs here in the
Shenandoah Vally, one of numerous beautiful old barns in the valley.


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ŠLes Gorven
"Deep purple"
Used With Permission.

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