Oh those days of yesteryear were hard and weary,
The chores were never ending everyday; The nights were ever long and dark and dreary,
Yet, we built a country life along the way.
When the autumn rolled around each year,
We contemplated,
Shall we go again to fields to gather in,
All that the good Lord in His Heaven has provided,
To fill each underground potato house and bin?
Looking at our worn out footgear and our clothing,
Gave the answer every time so loud and clear;
Yes, the God Lord up in Heaven, in His mercy,
Has made a way to fill the needs of families here.
So the gloves were bought and baskets did await us,
As the first exciting morning rolled around;
Then, we traveled to our harvest destination
And saw the rows of taters on the ground.
Some straddled baskets, bent our backs to start our labors,
As others dropped to ground on bended knee;
All down the rows were brothers, mothers, sisters,
And then, the end of row where I would be.
Filled each basket and each barrel with the taters
Trucks would come with hoist to reel those taters in
Then haul them down the road to winter storage
To fill each waiting tater house and bin
There they’d wait till time for selling was upon them
Trucked far down the road to distant stores;
Thank you God for Old Aroostook in the wildwood
So that we might share our autumn harvest with those shores.
Gail A. Mailman
Amity
