Work is Fun

I remember it well I worked with a will,
Chopping and splitting wood was a thrill
Several cart loads done before lunch,
Scones and cakes to devour and crunch.

There on the farm working in the sun,
Abundant energy with all labour fun,
Sweating and hot contented I be,
King of the vista and all I could see.

No pressure or temptation beautiful each day,
No thought of money or assessments or pay,
On that property the environment was sweet,
No one to bother you or no one to meet.

Grabbing the axe studying blocks of wood.
Striking with the grain doing the best I could,
A pleasurable task with my knowledge applied,
Mastering a technique that satisfied my pride.

There at Flock House special that time,
Young and impressionable with fresh cut pine,
Away from family but comfortable though shy,
Learnt many things and gave anything a try.

AAbout this poem;-
Remembering those scones and jam also that meal
supplied by the farmer's wife, as an appreciation

for work done by me, while a student at Flock House

a farming school.(Many moons back now)