Bringing in ours this morning as well, I have passed the mantle on to my oldest this year, himself and my auld fella will draw the most of it in while I’m at work. The young lad will learn a lot over the next few hours.
Field ready to be cut this morning, looking perfect. Fucking cattle broke into it last night, trampled it all down and shat all over the place. The father is like a cunt.
Silage is pickled grass. Like pickled cabbage, you’d not feed it to your bessiers. In your particular instance, if you had a British soccerballing franchise round for tae in the winter, you’d feed them hay. If it was your local senior intercounty hurling squad, you’d feed them silage.
“standing in the gap” translates as “stay the fuck out of the way over there, you Cork townie bollox”
I’d advise settling in to a box set of All Creatures Great And Small mate.
It will give you the gist of this thread, but in a more refined manner, suitable for folk from The Pale who would like to tune into BBC Radio 4 and would be unused to the coarse language and tones of rural types, whilst poking fun at this genre of individual in a genteel, safe, and comfortingly British manner.