Poetry - Aubrey Pearce



The Partridgeberry Ground
This is the place where the pickers do gather When the berries are ripe and the time comes around; All kinds of figures, and some may have pickers, Congregate here where the berries abound. There's people from Lance Cove, and some from the harbour In cars and in trucks, they go berrying around; All in a hurry to pick the nice berries That grow on the barrens of the Maberly ground. There's men of all ages and boys in the bargain There's Old Uncle Neddy as spry as a hound. Hello! Holy cow! Sure, here he comes now A-laughing to go to the berry-picking ground. Says Tom to his brother, "Just look at the berries All torn up and scattered to heck, I'll be bound, Hundreds of gallons torn up by the talons Of some crazy pickers on the berry-picking ground." "Yes, boy," says Sammy, "sure it is a pity To spoil all the berries before they are sound. I says me hearty, there should be a party To see to our rights on the berry-picking ground.." Each evening at sunset you'll see the folks coming All loaded with berries, the best can be found; A big load to carry, though none of them tarry; They want to get home from the berry-picking ground. When using the picker to get at the berries, You crawl on your knees, and scramble around, And the juice of the berry as red as a cherry Is found on all pants on the berry-picking ground. A nice bit of money is made from the berries Which grow and are picked on Maberly ground, But a good deal more would be got, I am sure, If picked when just ripe on the berry-picking ground. The partridgeberry patches are sometimes quite handy, But oft-times you find them a long way from town. With a big load to carry, be they Tom, Dick, or Harry, They find it quite tough on the berry-picking ground. If you ever feel inclined to go berry picking, Leave your "Sunday go to meetings" at home in the town; And if you are lazy, and a little bit crazy, You'd better keep clear of the berry-picking ground.


Aubrey Pearce (1894-1977) Maberly Resident


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