Sap Time

The City Man drives past and sees the sap pails on the trees,

He stops his car and steps outside and sniffs the fragrant breeze,

He sees the happy farmers with their Maple trees on tap,

He breathes a sigh of envy…but,

He’s never gathered sap.


He sees the sled and team come in…it looks like so much fun,

The farmer looks so healthy and he wishes he was one;

But in his logic there is apt to be one major gap,

For all his vim and eagerness,

He’s never gathered sap!


He wanders to the sap house with its cloud of fragrant steam,

He watches how the rising foam is quelled with drops of cream.

He sees the golden syrup pour and fill the thick nap

He thinks it’s simply super but…

He’s never gathered sap.


He’s never slogged for ten hours at a stretch through mud and slush.

He’s never emptied buckets till his mittens turned to mush.

He’s never slipped and fallen down and spilled it in his lap,

He thinks it’s wonderful because…

He’s never gathered sap.


He doesn’t go to bed to dream of maples row on row,

With miles and miles of buckets just about to over flow.

He thinks it’s quite romantic…he’s a very pleasant chap,

But the brutal fact my friends is that,

He’s never gathered sap.