In 1906 over the sea he came, a carpenter Dingwel by name.
To really toil and try his hand, in this new young sun filled land.
The stories that were heard at home, caused many men far to roam.
With trunks of tools made the trip, maybe to give the cold the slip.

In 1907 he began to farm, having with timber built dairy and barn.
Slow to open up with ox and plough, compared to how we do it now.
Land a plenty if you had the strength, ploughed by hand the full length.
New disease and pestilence, tests his knowledge and patience.

As this small family farm grew, it could take on someone new.
In 1925 Walter Scutt joined them, increase the acreage was the thing.
Increased the crops and the land, but still all work was done by hand.
Crop to market by ox wagon, a trip the family could participate in.

In 1929 there was a marriage, everyone in horse and carriage.
Walter and Bertha tied the knot, should have seen the partying lot.
Every one from miles around, gave this marriage their full resound.
This marriage soon bore fruit, little kids to put down their roots.

In 1952 Derek joined his dad, some temperamental times were had.
Youngster brought mechanization in, wearing tempers very thin.
Soon a working system planned, Walter the cattle Derek the land.
Each his strength headlong to go, into the farm much growth to sow.

As happens when we have done our share, Walter passed on to the place up there.
In March 1964 I was employed, a more wonderful time have not enjoyed.
That same year built a burley barn, having real feeling for that farm.
Fortune favored us to get on well, into the rhythm of the farm I fell.

Increased crops the way to go, I sure learned how maize to grow.
Tobacco barns to overflow, cure under gums no place to go.
First burned red then hard by the sun, working there sure was fun.
Seven years as part of that team, in my heart still a dream.

Three generations have worked that land, each with tender loving hands.
Each building on a strong foundation, producing food for the nation.
You only reap what you sow, learned that lesson long ago.
Only loving care begets a crop, anything less will be a flop.

If people think farming is a right, they are in for a fair old fright.
For farming well is hard work, never off for rest can shirk.
Put investment in the soil, top it off with good hard toil.
A gentleman you cannot be, if you want good crops to see.

I dedicate this poem from me, to Derek Lillymay and family.
For the wonderful memory, of that farm I have in me.
To treasure my whole life long, cos they are so very strong.
The lessons learned have guided me, having influenced my destiny.

Written by P. Barlow. 25/02/2001
Email : Pete Barlow