It stands against the wearing time --
Rusted, used and worn --
With smells of dust and hay and horse
This massive ancient barn.
A place of shelter filled with things
Of wonder to a child
Like harness, old and brittle
Hanging on a wooden stall.
There's a set of scales with hanging weights
Suspended from a chain
Used to weigh the cotton sacks
And calculate the wage
For Pickers paid by the pound
Harvested each day
And stuffed in sacks they drug along
As they stooped under its sway,
The new is parked beside the old
As time has changed all things;
A diesel tractor now is there
Where plow horses once stood
Patiently waiting to be harnessed
To the wagon on which was piled
The heavy sacks of cotton
To be hauled to the gin.
Through it all the barn has stood
Witness of the change
From cotton crop to livestock;
Still the heart of the farm.
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