Lyrics:
Brush up on my field work
Better brush up on my field work
Gonna get my fingers dirty
Better brush up on my field work
One thing I need
Is
Saw Jean Baptiste's walking to me with the Maker
My body is bent and broken
By long and dangerous sleep
I can't work the fields of Abraham
Red Mars for the rich
I'm just a poor boy
Living frugally
I see Mars on TV
I see people happy
I work fields with
Blistered fingers
I look
of three women who dictate what I'm worth
I'm the farmer
I work in the fields all day
Don't mean to alarm her
But I know it was meant to be this way
of three women who dictate what I'm worth
I'm the farmer
I work in the fields all day
Don't mean to alarm her
But I know it was meant to be this way
a field of rye
The easiest work that ever I done
Was eatin' chicken pie
Chicken crow for midnight
And chicken crow for a day
Along come an owl,
We thank Thee each morning for a newborn day
Where we may work the fields of new mown hay
We thank Thee for the sunshine
And the air that we
he's walking to me with the Maker
My body, my body is bent and broken by long and dangerous sleep
I can't work the fields of Abraham and turn my head
We thank Thee each morning for a newborn day
Where we may work the fields of new mown hay
We thank Thee for the sunshine
And the air that we
We'd get up before sun-up to get the work done up
We'd work in the fields till the sun had gone down
We've stood and we've cried as we have bristly
of three women who dictate what I'm worth
[Chorus]
I'm the farmer.
I work in the fields all day
Don't mean to alarm her
But I know it was meant to be
to me with the maker
My body is bent and broken
By long and dangerous sleep
I can work the fields of Abraham
And turn my head away
I'm not a stranger
In
Sometimes I hear her singing take me to the promised land
When you take away a mans dignity he cant work his fields and cows
There'll be blood
We got up before sunup to get the work done up
We'd work in the fields till the sun had gone down
We've stood and we've cried as we helplessly
The field is my home where I work mighty hard
I stand in the shade of Heaven's reward
I'm happy and free 'cause
I've got a, a woman's love
She
to the work in the fields, harvest has come
The sun is setting on the hill, day is soon done
Newborn through brokenness and calling
On hand and knees we're
on Penny's farm
Then you go out in the fields
And you work all day
Way after night but you're gettin' no pay
Promise you meat or a little lard
It's hard to be
Clear creeks and cool mountain mornings
Honest work out in the field
Corn bread in my mama's kitchen
Daddy saying grace before the meal
Family
Baptist walking to me with the Maker
My body my body is bent and broken by long and dangerous sleep
I can't work the fields of Abraham and turn my head
the poor man, rich man's slave
I work the field come rain or shine
What else can I do
I have nothing nor has mine
Are we rich man's fools
Poor man, poor
you or me.
Who will work the field with his hands?
Who will put his back to the plough?
Who'll take the mountain and give it to the sea?
Don't
I fell on the playing field
The work of an errant heel
The din of the crowd and the loud commotion
Went deafening silence and stopped emotion
you or me.
Who will work the field with his hands?
Who will put his back to the plough?
Who'll take the mountain and give it to the sea?
Don't
or me
Who will work the field with his hands?
Who will put his back to the plough?
Who'll take the mountain and give
It to the sea?
Don't look now, it
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