Tractor Poem

[Dan England]

I bought an old tractor all dusty and worn,
knew nothing about her just the year she was born
I washed her and greased her and painted her red
Now she lives happily right here in my shed

Many of you have seen this verse following posts by Kodiak. I had the complete poem at one time, but have misplaced (lost) it. I have tried Google searches and have enlisted the assistance of a librarian in an attempt to get a new copy but we have not been able to locate it. I will appreciate all assistance which you may give in helping find a copy. Thanks, Dan

[Kodiak]

Thanks Dan, I too have looked and had no luck, I would like the rest of the poem and to give credit to the author for such a nice piece of work.

Ron W.

[Dan England]

Ron: I will continue to look. I believe that we will eventually locate it. I also posted the request on the YT board under tractor talk. No luck there yet but one member composed a poem while another provided an excellent poem on the bond between man and his tractor. You might want to take a look. Dan

[Dan England]

Fergus of the YT board provided the following poem. Although it is not the one I am looking for, I really did enjoy it. I think some of you may like it and perhaps it will trigger memories of your search for that special tractor. Dan

FISH STORY by Frank Young

You've worked for years like you had to do
Provided for them but what about you?
Should you labor on in selfless giving
Or is it time for a little living?

You've got your house, you've got your car
An occasional night, spent at the bar
A loving wife and a kid named Fred
But you need a tractor out in the shed

So you set aside, perhaps a weekend
And follow the light of your own beacon
You hit the backroads on a mission
And tell them all you're going "fishin"

Down shady backroad and dusty lane
You search the fence rows like a man insane
Driven on by force unknown
You've got to have one for your own

Back home they wonder if the old mans daft
He's never been fond of water craft
And never owned a rod or reel
Never came home with a fish-filled creel

They speculate a mid-life crisis
They speak of variety and how it spices
They think perhaps some psycho-pill
Would help you make it up over the hill

But thats not heard by your deaf ears
You can't be burdened by all their fears
You've made your move, won't turn around
Till what you seek is finally found

Then suddenly in that small clearing
You spot an old McCormick-Deering
It speaks to you in rusted voice
The die is cast, you have no choice

The price is paid, no second thought
Already proud of what you've bought
You load the relic behind your truck
And thank the gods that brought such luck

You head back home, your prize aboard
And vow that soon it'll be restored
To the fine machine it used to be
Its not just iron, its history

The family greets you, "Hi'ya Dad"
Certain that you've at last gone mad
They blame the stress, a destructive factor
But what the hell---you've got your tractor!

[John *.?-!.* cub owner]

Thanks Dan, I loved it.