Damn This Field

[paulcanuck]

Damn This Field

Damn this field!
Plowing is rough
In this wind, in this dust

Damn you, field!
Never offered a crop
Worth this work and this fuss

Whoa there, Bess!
Don't hurt yourself!
Ten furrows left
Won't be long now
We'll unhook this plow

Curse this land!
For burning these hands,
Sticking knives in my knees

Curse you, land!
All the pain you demand
You should be rightfully pleased

Hold on, Bess
My God you sweat!
Just eight rows left
Won't be long now
Then you can rest

Damn you, field
For taking Pa
Still see him slumped over

And for muffling the shout
Of his heart giving out
By your weeds in the corner

Hang on, Bess
Don't injure yourself
Six furrows left
Won't be long now
We'll get you some rest

Damn you, field!
You never upheld
Your end of the bargain

Damn you to hell!
Next to nothing to sell
Come the cold of this Autumn

Sorry, ol' Bess
It's not you I address
It won't be long now
No, it won't be long now
We'll get us some rest
Yeah, we'll get us some rest