Page 32 - Poetry-Country

The Farmer’s Wife

The farmer came in from the field one day,
His languid step and his weary way,
His bended brow and his sinewy hand,
All showing his work for the good of the land;
For he sows,
And he hoes,
And he mows,
All for the good of the land.

By the kitchen fire stood his patient wife,
Light of his home and joy of his life,
With face all aglow and busy hand,
Preparing the meal for her husband’s band;
For she must boil,
And she must broil,
And she must toil,
All for the sake of the home.

Sun shines bright when the farmer goes out.
Birds sing sweet songs, lambs frisk about,
The brook babbles softly in the glen,
While he works bravely for the good of the men.
For he sows,
And he hoes,
And he mows,
All for the good of the land.

How briskly the wife steps about within
The dishes to wash and the milk to skim,
The fire goes out and flies buzz about—
For dear ones at home her heart is kept stout;
There are pies to make,
There is bread to bake,
And steps to take,
All for the sake of a home.

Then the day is o’er and evening has come,
The creatures are fed and the milking is done,
He takes his rest ‘neath the old shade tree,

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