Mowing Fields Is In My Past ©1982 Daniel K. Statnekov Woke up this morning in distress Couldn't figure it out but none-the-less My face and nose was all filled up A sneezin fit did bad erupt Minds me of a time gone by When I tried farmin' for awhile And sat up on a tractor high To mow a field and grow some rye Mostly brush and untamed weeds In pasture home had gone to seed Planned to plant alfalfa tall An' feed it to the stock in Fall Thoughts of all that bright green hay Filled my head throughout the day And as I cut that pasture down Didn't see nothin' 'cept the ground The dust that rose was thick to breathe Choked me some and made me heave But worse there was a yet to come And what it was no more fun A cloud of pollen in the air Surrounded me and filled my hair To plague and overcome my day And banish thoughts of all that hay Crept into every clothing crease To find my skin like some strange beast The itch it caused is more 'n words And big red welts came out like herds Started me sneezen 'n' scratchin hard Equilibrium completely jarred Until my eyes were red with tears And mind was clouded o're with fears That some disease unknown to me Would soon fulfill its destiny And sure I'd be beneath the ground To nare again hear any sound I shut that tractor down so quick You would of thought a country hick Had run against a hive of bees The way I lit out for the trees A pullin' clothes off as I went And hollerin' loud to God give vent Scratchin' itchin' over all Forgot about that coming Fall And all the hay I planned to make Or how I'd turn it into steak Instead through reddened eyes of pain Looked toward the river for my gain Near naked now I made my way Like some demented soul to pray And ducked my head beneath the stream To wash away that field's bad dream My sneezin' stopped and itch did too You'd think that boy had earned his due But not at all, my steps turned back To where I'd left that tractor slack And started once again my chore Thought what had happened here-to-fore Until that cloud of dust arose To once again on me impose Its dreadful scratch and choking fit That told me sure that this was it Within me lived some adverse form To cuttin' weeds that wasn't norm And so retraced my steps in haste To plunge my itch and wash my face And then I knew the truth at last That mowin' hay was in my past.