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
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