Tractor Pull

The men all got together

To see whose rig was best.

‘Twas then that Brother Steven

Put “Big John” up to the test.

The farmers packed in closely;

The track was hard and bare

When “Big John” and “International”

Both paid their entry fare.

Then they drew their order –

“Big John” would wait till last,

So “International” grabbed the sled –

Tore down the track real fast.

Passed 50 feet, then 60,

And finally saw the end.

Now “Big John” hitched to the heavy sled,

His title to defend.

His smokestack sputtered vengeance –

He cleared ten feet with a mighty jerk,

Passed 20 feet, now 30,

And then began to work.

The crowd looked on in silence;

One fan, then two began to shout,

Then again the piercing silence…

Big Bad John had just spun out.

(I wrote this a long time ago when I was a teenager.  Tractor pulls were a big deal in our farming community and my brother, Steve, who was coming of age just then, entered our fairly new John Deere in one, with high hopes of winning.  Not long ago, we ran across a handwritten, framed copy of the poem I had made for my grandparents and Kevin asked me to add it to the blog.)