Poem 6 of 230: THE PICKER

While picking onions at Echuca,
    Betimes I came across a
Man who was, he said, by trade a picker.

A compact and stocky physique had he;
    Kind he was to first-time me -
Advising, "You should pick 'em on your knee."

Then he told me of his long-kept plan
    Of travel by caravan
To pick seasoned crops, over a wide span.

But workers' rates, I knew, were non too fair -
    Twenty dollars a tonne, there,
Was all the onion-crop owner could spare.

Though (with tally taken by some louse,
    And told to see owner or spouse),                                 
Believe me, they lived in some kind of house.

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