This is a nostalgic poem about life on the farm it is one of the most popular of the country poems that I do

OLD ALBERT

I’d known old Albert all my life
A countryman through and through
He knew every field and hedgerow
And every bird that ever flew
He ploughed fields behind the horses
Broke the clods down with his boot
Lived on the knife edge of the law
As a few pheasants he would shoot
I can see his face up to this day
Cheeks wrinkled, rosy red
Eyes sunken in like pools of fire
Grey hair upon his head
In summer he’d work from dawn to dusk
To harvest corn and hay
In the winter he’d dig ditches
And the thorn hedge he would lay.
I always asked folk how he was
But one day one replied
I got some bad news for you boy
You know old Albert died
My world just crumbled around me
How could that ever be?
A man I thought could live forever
Had lost his immortality.
The hay-barn, that’s still standing
The old stable looks the same
On the beam there’s all the etchings
Upon which he’d carved his name,
I see him sitting on the floor
Cold tea and suet roll his midday snap
And when he’d told us lads his tales
He’d lie back for a nap,
He was the last of the old countrymen
Changing methods was their demise
I still see him spudding thistles
And wielding his sharp scythes
I like to think that he’s still here
Walking with me through the wood
And perhaps one day we’ll farm again,
Yes! Wouldn’t that be good.