July mornings dawned dark and early
The cocky red rooster crowed his alarm.
Tobacco was mightier than King Cotton
On the old Robeson County farm

A cured barn had to be emptied
Before the regular days work could begin
Then home for a hearty farmer’s breakfast
Because there was no break again until ten

Croppers, stringers and handers
Each one skilled at their unique task
Would work hard, rarely stopping
Almost unaware of how time passed

Then the croppers came from the field to the barn
To hang the sticks of green tobacco inside
When "caught up" Grandpa would spin a quick yarn
Or place a child on the mule's back for a ride

Then back to the field of green hot rows
Where the gummy leaves were cropped by hand
And pulled to the barn by tractor or mule
Through rain, heat, mud or sand.

As the day wore on the barn’s sides would swell
With tobacco hanging from  every tier pole
When finished, the farmer proudly lit the fire
Starting the cure so it could be sold

Watching the temperature diligently
Every hour, both day and night
In five days or maybe six
His golden leaf was cured just right

They graded, tied and packed it in baskets
Of wrappers, first grade, green leaf and trash
Then, trucked it off to the warehouse for sale
Celebrating success with a fish fry bash!