The Art of Milking

[thestoryteller]

THE ART OF MILKING

"You've got a cow to milk!" Jim cried, while passing by my door.
"It can't be time," I cried aloud, as I was feeling poor.
It wasn't Mabel's fault at all; she was a quiet old cow.
I guess I wasn't up to it; at leastwise not just now.

"You watch the tele far too late and that is why," Jim said,
"I have to crack the whip me lad to bounce you out of bed."
I thought, he's right, as usual and wandered down the stairs,
to find my old black gum boots in among the many pairs.

Old Mabel she was waiting there outside the milking yard,
then ambled up into the bail, the job was never hard.
I guess she liked the lucerne hay there on the other side
or else she hated poly pipe ... felt it undignified.

While milking I would reminisce of times back in the past
when Uncle Jim had taught me how to do this daily task.
I'd always been a city kid and hated country life,
but then I lost my parents and Jim saw I was in strife.

Old Jim and Pat they treated me just like I was their own
and taught me all about the bush; the only life they'd known.
Jim said the day had come at last to meet his milking cow,
for as it was to be my job I might as well learn now.

He showed me how to bail her up all ready for the chore,
oblivious of old Jim's tricks and what he had in store.
"Now listen carefully my lad this really is an art
and teamwork is the secret here, you'll have to play your part."

"Lad go around to Mabel's rear and reach down for her tail,
then hold it out while I sit here and organize the pail.
Now as I pull on Mabel's teats just work it up and down.
Pretend she's like a water pump" and kept his serious frown.

It seemed a bit farfetched to me and not a lot of fun,
but as Jim was producing milk I guessed that's how it's done.
"A little faster now," said Jim, "to get her in full swing."
So there I was imagining I'd managed the darn thing.

The pail now lapping at the brim sure looked a marv'llous sight
and Uncle Jim was full of praise and said I'd done alright .
Each day I did the same routine, though Jim would shake his head,
and smile like mad assuring me I'd surely get ahead.

One balmy morn before Jim rose Pat sent me on a chore
to borrow flour from off next door till she went to the store.
I caught the neighbours milking as they'd made an early start,
though found their way of milking was a different form of art.

I raced back home and noticed Jim had Mabel right to go.
"You ready lad!" he called to me. My cue to strike a blow,
for as Jim sat there on his stool, I thought I'd make amends.
"By George I've got the hang of this. I think I'll swap you ends."

From the book Tales of Uncle Jim

©Merv Webster