Farming the "tough" way from sunrise to sunset A harder worker I never have met A quintessential Yankee practical, stubborn, and proud An opinion he'd voice Always out loud He could fix anything(it seemed) with nails, screws or wood And if he couldn't he'd say, "You don't need that...it's no good." Childhood memories of summers spent on his farm Have come flooding back to me now that he's gone Covered head to toe in dust, manure, and sweat He'd say to me "Curley, come here you haven't hugged me yet!" I'd shriek "eeewwww" and run like the wind But the promise of a tractor ride would bring me back again Jaunts on his tractor were a spectacular treat He'd say, "Hop up on the fender and watch out for your feet." As the years passed by and the farm was all gone He'd still climb on that tractor and nudge it along Cutting hay, plowing snow whatever he could do Being one with his tractor was all he knew I'll think of him when I smell freshly cut hay Or the scent of cow manure on a warm summer's day I smile as I envision his very last ride Up the hill on his tractor to the "other side" I will miss you, Uncle Bud