How does the farmer grow his crop?
We think there’s only one way.
He does it from the bottom up
And never works on Sundays.
How does the farmer till his field?
He does it with other’s oxen!
That he takes to the barn at night
And very carefully locks in.
How does the farmer clear his crop
When growing time is done?
He loves the weeds more than the flowers
And lets them have their fun?
No, how does the farmer clear his crop
When growing time is done?
He teaches the grass to light a match
And then just gives it one?
No, how does the farmer clear his crop
When growing time is done?
He starves the goats until they cry
And then just lets them roam?
Doesn’t he rent a big machine
And shave it like a sheep?
But that doesn’t clear the crop;
The roots have grown too deep.
Still there he sits in Sunday best,
The field’s all freshly mown.
His mouth full of fresh-baked bread says
“I never should have sown!”
Warning: if I get on to a meter, I have a hard time getting off. Uuuaaaghghgheewwww. Good meter, but get off! Euaeuawhhaaaaaah. It’ll be children’s poetry for two straight weeks. Huaewahaaahah. Go away. No meter! No! Help! You’re so … cute … and pithy.
like a tangerine?
I can’t help it. All I want to do is write about God. There’s enough people writing about enough other things, aren’t there?