The Good Farmer
A gathering crowd- wreaths in hand
paying respects to a good man of the land
a hole in the ground to lay him to rest
nothing but silence except the cries of the lamb
here he will lie close to the land he once worked
a farmer, a shepherd, most honest of men
never a day of graft did he evade
but now he's at rest alone in his grave
there by his graveside his wife stands alone
saying goodbye to the good man she'd known
alone to her cottage she returns to weep
then up in the morn' to attend to the sheep
the smoke from the chimney closes the day
she prays that his soul was carried away
no time left for sorrow she must tend to the farm
make sure the new lambs come to no harm
A gathering crowd wreaths in hand
paying respects to a good widow of the land
a hole in the ground to lay her to rest
nothing but silence except the cries of the lamb
there is no smoke from the chimney at the close of this day
the good Lord chose to take these people away
there's no one left to tend to their land
nothing but silence not even the cries of the lamb.
Copyright © Julie Achilles | Year Posted 2020
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