Farmers Harvest
This old man he had strings
He played guitar while he sings
With nick who nacked paddy
Gave a dog a home
This old man rolled up by the river
Where he floats on
Blowing smoke rings out of his mind
He did the funky prime in his time
Didn’t you
Rocking all over the free world
Didn’t realise that there is no freedom
Till he came to harvest
And found a bald field ready to grow
Through the foggy wheels of rhyme
He found cloudy days
Left far behind
Wasted years spent like wastrel
This old man sold his strings
No more guitar yet he still sings
Cruising through town
His words make him live
His hands make him give
Mining through a heart of gold
Keep on searching
Till you find the truth
As for my words to you
The spoken word and doing good
Will break the strings that bind you
Till another day
The last words spoken
Will be written
As he who forgets
Is destined to remember
That there is only one
That all of us came from