So Come On On The Soft Old Farm And Work.
Your sagacity is futility:
When the fallow farm lands are brevity;
The door to wealth is Father's farm to clear
grasses; his labours share, his burdens bear.
Come back, the yelling gray of hairs alarm
The milestones of 3 scores minus 4 farm_
now grows in thick of leaves and short of food,
Come back to ' farm without a think or brood.
The machete is bluntly sharp to till
the land of acre swinging bushes, still
with gross foot, the land would be fed fertile
like the soil in the woods so versatile.
Come on brothers, let's go to the farm, the
sky is white and the cloud is fainting, the
morn dew is fresh and the tweeting birds tweet,
Come on brothers, it's not a late retreat.
Come from the world so wide like near a-mile
With great strength of your arms so worth a while
With heartbeat of one and joint hands to work;
So come on on the soft old farm and work.
"words from the innocent mind"