To Burst Forth (Spurt)

Lyrics

[Intro]
In the barn at 5:30 AM, March 12, 1902.
The air is 48 degrees Fahrenheit.
Dented tin pail waits under the udder.

[Verse 1]
Dr. John Smith wrote in 1879,
aged fifty-two, in his Lexicon of Rural Terms:
The term spurt doth signify a sudden gush or jet,
as of water or blood, oft seen in the farmyard.
I sit on the wooden stool with its uneven leg,
calloused hands on the goat named Eliza,
bought from Farmer Wilkins in Yorkshire, 1898.
Rope tethers her to the post, coarse and frayed.

[Chorus]
Spurt of milk hits the pail,
frothy white against the tin.
A burst forth, sudden and sure,
like laughter from the children outside,
or speed across the field on the rusted bicycle.
Just a spurt, nothing more.

[Verse 2]
The pail fills halfway, warm to the touch,
smell of fresh milk and damp hay mixing.
Eliza bleats softly, her breath visible in the chill.
I remember the entry in the Farmer’s Almanac Log,
that sudden force, rhythmic spurt-spurt,
earthy musk clinging to my apron.
No strangeness here, just the morning chore.

[Bridge]
In dialects from the early 1900s,
spurt described a child's burst of laughter,
watching the animals, abrupt as liquid escaping.
The unnamed farmhand, perhaps a girl of twelve,
helped once, her name lost to the records.
But the goat's breed, maybe a Toggenburg,
its temperament steady, that detail fades too.
Still, the spurt remains, matter-of-fact.

[Verse 3]
Crust of stale bread waits by the rusty hand pump,
eaten after, hasty in the growing light.
The barn's weathered walls hold the echo,
of each jet into the pail, forceful and brief.
Dr. Smith's words linger, a jet of ink on paper.

[Chorus]
Spurt of milk hits the pail,
frothy white against the tin.
A burst forth, sudden and sure,
like laughter from the children outside,
or speed across the field on the rusted bicycle.
Just a spurt, nothing more.

[Outro]
The pail is full now, chore done at dawn.
Spurt ends, as all things do.
Simple as that.