WW2 Poem: I’m Prudence, the girl with the plough

I’m Prudence, the girl with the plough
I work on a farm down in Bucks
I love all the hens and the lambs and the cow
And I think that the ducks are just ducks –
I wouldn’t deceive, I’ve the failings of Eve,
Yet I struggle and toil just for love of the soil,
But, fall for a farmer? Not me!

I’m Prudence, the girl with the rake,
At rooting up weeds I’m the goods – 
And though I have tried to get eggs from the drake,
I’m a knockout at lifting the spuds,
The farmer’s wife’s green with envy I’ve seen
Which gives me a kick, I’ll agree
The lads say I’m worth all the fruits of the earth,
But fall for an apple? Not me!

I’m Prudence and farming’s my kick –
They say I’ve unusual views:
I asked if a phosphate was something to drink,
And I thought they made hedges of ewes,
The pigs, I must own, smell of eau-de-Cologne,
(It makes them more pleasing to me)
The Boss, with a sigh, says he know that I try…
But, fall for a Land Girl? Not he!

by ‘Bee’.

Source: Buckinghamshire Archives D/X976