Those Tattie Howkin’ Days

Tattie howkin’ in bygone days
Reminiscin’ auld ways
Up i’ the mornin’ wi’ the dawn
Scarcely e’er the cock had crawn
On tractor bogie tae fertile fields
Harvestin’ precious yields

Smell o’ diesel – strictly measured drill
Wicker sculls – strewn tae fill
Muscles achin’ – backs bent
Scatterer scatterin’ wi’ intent
Up ae drill – doon ainither
In a’ different kinds o’ weather

Geared tractor set the pace
Often ‘twas near tae race
An’ whiles – at approchin’ mechanical sound
Tatties were heeled intae the ground
Wi’ laughter and chatter calmin’ in haste
There was time tae enjoy – little tae waste

Tattie howkin’ I remember
Frae September tae November
When first frost – as a pin
Pierced e’er the hairst was gaither’d in
Harvesting thro’ necessity
Chasin’ away poverty
 

Submitted by Anna MacDonald