As I walk through the once green, full farm yard,

See the ghosts play just like my little ones,

I wish for the times when it wasn't this hard,

See the searching rays of sun like hot tounges.

 

I find myself working with the soon-dead,

Will I soon be driven to the city?

I just want my dear family to be fed,

See, working out here is never pretty.

 

I find mysef in a tough position,

Because I dare not desert the old cows,

So it's now my good-hearted mission,

To stay until the rain wakes from its drowse.

 

Then the rain falls! Atop the dry, cracked fields,

And I find myself reduced to squeals.