Me name is Nora Forthright, I live on Tebay Fell;
As farmer’s daughter, farmer’s wife, I know the business well.
A general factotum, the boss of every trade.
They say I’m worth me weight in gold but I’m generally unpaid.

I rise up in a morning and make the men some tea.
It takes a pint to set them off and another one for me.
And while they do the feeding I’m bottling lambs or calves.
They come back wanting breakfast and they never eat by halves.

I wear the same clothes all year round in frost or snow or sun.
You know if I’ve fed silage cos be gum the buggers hum.
I’ve grown me legs an extra inch to climb the barb wire fence –
I wouldn’t do this job at all if I had any sense.

I have to shovel cow muck - uphill against a gale -
I mustn’t ever ask for help to shift a silage bale.
I’m told to drive the tractor, no matter what its type,
But when the boss takes over I’m demoted to the gripe.

I have to feed the Swaledales, their horns are quite a game.
I have to raise them from the dead and cure the halt and lame.
And here’s another miracle that ought to make him shout -
Not making wine from water but lambing pens from nowt.

The pickup’s mine he reckons, but it’s always full o’ hay.
If I shop just for groceries he calls it my free day,
So I also go to auction, I wear my cleanest gear;
If I sell, I sold too cheaply, if I buy, I’ve bought too dear.

If I call an electrician, the cost it makes him whine,
‘Cos he could do the job himself if he only had the time.
If I make a decision, then I’ll have got it wrong.
But I mustn’t criticise him ‘cos he’s perfect all day long.

I have to fox the income tax and deal with V A T.
I have to fill in IACS forms while washing up from tea.
I have to know the subsidies for every beast we keep.
I deal so much wi’t Ministry I do it in me sleep.

For nearly half a lifetime now I’ve studied how to farm.
But living on the subsidies has somehow lost its charm.
It’s time I gave up farming for a job with lower stress –
I’m leaving now and going off to join the S A S.