| If they take away my farm
|
| If they pull me off the plough
|
| Tell me, who will feed the people
|
| Hell, the banker don’t know how
|
| It’s all pages in a mystery
|
| That he’ll never understand
|
| Tell me, who will feed the people
|
| If they put me off my land
|
| If they call in all my loans
|
| If they call the auctioneer
|
| Tell me, who will bring the crops in
|
| With no farm folks living here
|
| Will the banker run the combine
|
| Will the agent bale the hay
|
| Tell me, who will feed the people
|
| If they take my farm away
|
| When my great-granddaddy Jakob
|
| Ninety-seven years ago
|
| Broke this sod behind two oxen
|
| Broke his back to make it grow
|
| Taught his sons by his example
|
| As they taught their sons in turn
|
| What this topsoil had to teach him
|
| Great-granddaddy tried to learn
|
| If they put us on the road
|
| If they tell us we must go
|
| Who will come to take our places
|
| Who’ll know half the things we know
|
| Who’ll know every inch of topsoil
|
| As it trickles through the hand
|
| Tell me, who will feed the people
|
| If they put me off my land
|
| When my great-granddaddy Jakob
|
| Ninety-seven years ago
|
| Broke this sod behind two oxen
|
| Broke his back to make it grow
|
| Taught his sons by his example
|
| As they taught their sons in turn
|
| What this topsoil had to teach him
|
| Great-granddaddy tried to learn
|
| If they take away my farm
|
| If they pull me off the plough
|
| Tell me, who will feed the people
|
| Hell, the banker don’t know how
|
| It’s all pages in a mystery
|
| That he’ll never understand
|
| Tell me, who will feed the people
|
| If they put me off my land
|
| It’s all pages in a mystery
|
| That he’ll never understand
|
| Tell me, who would feed the people
|
| If they put me off my land |