A Country Worker

A Country Worker Watching grass grow, seeing paint dry, doing the dishes Are mysterious consuming matters since Madge moved on Grass grows a little slower, decays Paint peels and flakes through age Dishes get dirty and pile high, break This all sounds so very boring I’m sure Still the lower 40 acres won’t tend themselves They have Old Alvin to plant the corn Who tills the soil tired He takes time to remember the tender years Rolling marbles down the highways and hills Waiting for their return There is nothing left of the lost plantation After a while all grows silent Nothing comes back No one is at home or in the field Waiting for the telephone to ring No. I don’t think so Just another boring thing Not worth mentioning