Creech St. Michael - Harvest
Tremlett's bitter really minging
One tonne weight, 30 crates
Squashed up apples
Get out juice !
Lots of apples getting cleaned
More than I've ever seen.
Big containers made or oak
Full of cider but I wish it was coke.!!

Rain Rain pouring down
Different apples red, green, brown
Constant whirring sound
Pomace on the ground
Smell wafting across the yard
The men's work is cold and hard.
-- Toby Willcocks, Chris Nation, Finley Grout --

I am bumping along in the trailer
With the other apples
On our way to the cider press

Dropped into the apple hopper
I went, crushed and squeezed together

Plop ! I went onto the mat
and spreaded around , all around

Suddenly I was squeezed
Squeezed so hard
loads of juice dropped down

Pumped along the pipe, into giant oak vats,
swirling all around

Bubble bubble I go
Until I set into cider

After some weeks I was bottled
And packed ready to be sold

I sat on the shelf in the shop
Till someone to got me down.

I was sold then, I was drunk
And that's the end of me.
-- Ashley Brown --

I love having apples
Especially cider
I like green apples
But certainly red

Makes me healthy
And my keeps teeth clean
But the thing I hate most
Is apple pie !
-- Lauren Hornsby --

Group Poems
I saw a big machine
That crushed the apples
To make the cider and apple juice
And the machine was very, very big
And very, very strong
It was lifting up
And pushing against a metal platform
To make the orangey red juice
Which turns into cider.
-- Tray Loveridge --

Pouring down rain of brown
Tremlett's bitter, really bitter
Squashed up apples
Get out the juice
Oak barrels, cider get ready
Wild yeast swishing juice
More apples getting clean
Now is raining, sun come out
Rain rain pouring down
Apples red, green brown
Pouring down rain of brown.
-- Alex Pearson --

I arrived at Sheppy's Cider farm
I saw the men crushing apple
We went to the museum
Saw a lot of old things
Like old crushing machines
In the museum we saw a lot of sharp things
When we tried the apple juice
It tasted very sweet and tanniny
Now we are writing poems about the cider farm
-- Jonathan Lambert --

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