All is safely gathered in . .

At last the weather held out and we got our First Cut of silage. 114 acres of grass is safely in the pit. In a week or two we'll take a sample for analysis so we can workout a Winter Feed Plan.

But what makes the grass grow? I few weeks ago I said in a Blog entry "I can here the grass grow" - well today it's another sense. As I got out of the car tonight there was a definite agricultural whiff in the air. It's all input and output: the cows eat the grass (or silage), the waste product goes in the slurry pit, and then onto the fields.

I've been searching for an online clip of a famous song (by The Yetties) that shows what can happen if you're a bit careless with the muck spreader. But Youtube has let me down. Maybe someone else can find it (or even record and upload it?). So in the meantime, here's the words. I'm sure you know the tune, so feel free to sing along.

Fling it here, fling it there.

If you're standing by then you'll all get your share.

Now down on our farm we are right up to date,

And mechanisation's the byword of late.

For every task we've a gadget to match

But our new muckspreader's the best of the batch.

Fling it here, fling it there.

If you're standing by then you'll all get your share.

Now young Walter Hodgekins he brought back a load

Of liquid manure from the farm down the road

And he hummed to himself as he drove down the street -

And his load it went hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm in the afternoon heat.

Fling it here, fling it there.

If you're standing by then you'll all get your share.

Now his muckspreader had a mechanical fault

And a bump in the road set it off with a jolt.

An odourous spray of manure it let fly

Without fear or favour on all it passed by.

Fling it here, fling it there.

If you're standing by then you'll all get your share.

The cats and the dogs stank to high kingdom come;

The kiddies, browned off, ran home screaming to Mum.

The trail of sheer havoc were terrible grim -

One open car were filled up to the brim.

Fling it here, fling it there.

If you're standing by then you'll all get your share.

The spinster, Miss Pringle, was quite scandalised.

"Good Gracious", she cried, "I've been fertilised".

And the Methodist minister's tee-total wife

Was plastered for the very first time in her life.

Fling it here, fling it there.

If you're standing by then you'll all get your share.

The vicarage windows were all open wide

When a generous helping descended inside.

The vicar at table intoned "let us pray".

When this manure from heaven came flying his way.

Fling it here, fling it there.

If you're standing by then you'll all get your share.

Now all of this time as he'd trundled along

He was quite unaware there was anything wrong'

Till a vision of woe flagged him down,

what a sight,

A policeman all covered in ... you've got it right.

Fling it here, fling it there.

If you're standing by then you'll all get your share.
Fling it here, fling it there.

If you're standing by then you'll all get your share