Our mule, Jenny, doesn’t seem to mind.
But I would.
Goin’ round in a circle
over and over and over and over.

I’d rather knock the leaves from the ripe cane.
But I’m not old enough nor tall enough.
One day I’ll be old enough and tall enough
but I’ll definitely wear gloves.
Strippers get enough cuts even without gloves.

But even that would beat
Goin’ round in a circle
over and over and over and over.

I did help plant the sorghum seeds
and weed the plants.
That was hard, especially on my back.
I hate weeding.

I’m not old enough nor tall enough to be a cutter either.
That wouldn’t be too bad.
Swinging that long knife. Cutting off the tassels,
then cutting the cane close to the ground.

Yep that would definitely beat
Goin’ round in a circle
over and over and over and over.

I did help Daddy unload the cane off the wagon
so he could push it through the mill.
I am old enough and tall enough for that.

That mill is a good one, too.
(It’s a Chattanooga #12.)
And I sorta helped Daddy and Uncle Thomas
cut the long pole that runs from
the mill to Jenny’s harness.

So she could go round in that circle
over and over and over and over.

(See, the pole turns the press in the mill
and that squeezes the cane
till the juice comes out.)

I’m strong enough to take the
juice from the mill bucket.
I really am.
But Daddy says I might spill some
on the way to the big ‘vaporating pan.

He does let me give Jenny some of the
crushed cane sometimes.
She likes that; it’s her sweet, I guess.
She’s a good mule.

Goin’ round in that circle
over and over and over and over.

Hear that?
They say they’re seein’ frog eyes in the syrup.
Those are the bubbles that come toward the end.
One more skimmin’ and it’ll be ready.

Ma’s going to the house to get
hot biscuits so we all can sample.

* * *

Tell you what.
Doesn’t really matter what I’d have to do.
I’d plant and weed.
I’d strip leaves and cut the cane.
I’d feed the mill and drag away the leavin’s.
I’d tend the fire and skim the juice.

I’d do whatever it’d take for a taste of that
beautiful sweetness.

I’d even go ‘round in a circle
over and over and over and over.


Harry W. Yeatts Jr.