They would crawl out of tents and shanties
breath sending up swirls of steam
hands and faces flushed red with cold.
Men and boys, women and daughters on hands and knees
planting life deep into unspoiled earth.
The men crouch down on haunches
thrust hard hands
into black soil and look to the sky:
Please God just a little rain and sun,
not too much of either one
please make this harvest a bountiful one

They would come out of their homes
Men and boys, women and daughters still on hands and knees
planting the future in a lush, green sea

The men would crouch down on haunches
thrust hard hands into black soil
and sing their lullaby:
Please God just a little rain and sun,
not too much of either one
please make this harvest a bountiful one

Tents and shanties grew into villages
villages into towns
Towns into cities
and men and boys, women and daughters
did not ever
get their hands dirty
and no one ever
sang God a lullaby.