Song Of The Farmer - song lyrics 
American Old-time song lyrics from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
SONG OF THE FARMER 
I have cattle that feed in the valley, And herds that graze on the hill; And I pride in the fruits of my labor. For I'm lord of the land that I till. I have plow'd the rough hill and the meadow. Till feeble with age and with toil; And I know, before long, that another Shall reap the new fruits of the soil. 
For the son that hath toiled for me ever. And faithfully stood by my side; Hath a hand that shall gather the harvest When his feeble old father hath died. And the daughter, so kind to her mother, Shall share with him all I possess; For I feel that they love me as father. And welcome my tender caress. 
There's my faithful, my trusting companion, My kind-hearted, dear, loving wife; I have toiled for her comfort with pleasures, For such was the pride of my life. And still in my manhood I love her, For her kind and affectionate care; And all that the earth can afford me, With her I most willingly share.