Shearing Times Poem

About Robbie

Robbie Miles was born on the farm, that he currently farms at Rickney, Pevensey Marshes in Sussex with his wife Clare, two dogs and a ferret! The farm is organic with 120 cattle and 100 breeding ewes.

He shears his own sheep, along with his brother-in-law Ben Roberts they do a bit of contracting for others with small flocks.

Shearing Times Poem

The hustle and bustle of setting things up,

drafting of lambs and wrestling a tup.

This busy time comes around once more,

Hard work and sweat, and a back that’s sore.

The continuous bleating of lambs missing mum,

Drowns out the listers constant hum.

When I go to shear a sheep, I hold her lower jaw,

Give a wiggle and back her through the trailer door.

Then twist her head, push in my knee

And sit her on her bum,

Pick up my trusty handpiece

Now the shearing tango has begun!

Down her brisket to her bag,

Taking off all her belly.

Then round the crutch, side of her tail

And any daggings smelly.

Then roll her sideways, back leg straight

And take her hind right out.

Then up her neck and break right through

“mind her ear” I hear Ben shout!

Shoulder done, then lay her down

Stretching to my toes.

From her rump right up past her neck,

Those lovely lock mowing blows.

As the fleece is set free

And tumbles to the floor

You let her go, click your tally

Stand up straight

Then through the door for more

In ancient times, when winter came

Wool kept you from the cold

Once wool had a great value

Worth more than all mans gold

Now with modern synthetic lines,

Wools value is no more

But this beautiful art of sheep welfare

Will keep me going to that door.

By R.J.M