Hop Picking (When I Was 5 Years Old) Poem by Sir Jasper

I met an old farmworker today
fixing a fence in his old way.
He spoke to me and said 'Good day,
rains a-coming, ' he did speak
'but then it will reach its peak.'
Hay's a-coming in
I recall.
A long time ago when I was a lad
country folk was not all that bad.
All that's gone, it's so sad,
the smells of hay and wood smoke I yearn
which burn my nose and sting my eyes.
Of my old granny cooking rabbit pies.
Orchards of plum that did the trick
which I fed to granny until she was sick.
Hop picking for me
was for hard-working people
once a year
to bring in the hops
for good English beer
and still today
it brings a tear.