Midweek Review
The Ploughshare’s Day
By Lynn Ockersz
The humble Ploughshare,
Much handier than the Spear,
Daren’t be put aside anymore,
As a yoke of disgrace,
Now that tilling the soil,
Seems a sound course to take,
By every householder of the Isle,
Seeking to earn his keep,
‘By the sweat of his brow’,
For, home gardens could ease hunger,
And help fill the national larder,
Lessening the land’s sorry reliance,
On pricy pelf coming from outside,
Which only fleetingly eases the pain,
But clamps on all heavier enslaving chains.