Time that ages all life has become their foe
Too old for tatie hoking in late Spring in May
Since their physical prime years in the nineteen seventies many a night and day
It was by the bags of potatoes they picked they were paid
And in such hard seasonal work easy money never made
But from their contracting jobs they did financially well
And of their tatie hoking days had good stories to tell
During their potato picking Seasons the dwelling they lived in were not up to date
One can say they were not even second rate
Sheds used for houising animals in the Wintertime
But this did not bother work hardened men in their physical prime
One wonders on their flights of fancy do they ever hear
The bells of St Davids ringing loud and clear
As they picked the potatoes their backs bent to the sky
In their visualizing of days gone by
Some of the tatie hokers of the nineteen seventies are not living today
Free of the cares of life at peace they do lay
Whilst those who are living are showing their years in gray
That time wearies and ages in truth one can say.
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