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.