Poor Head Farmers

A man can grow forests both steep and wide,

     Luxurious beeches and pines;

He can grow oak trees with the greatest of ease,

     And acres of shrubs and vines.

He can grow choice fruits on the topmost boughs,

     On which the nations are fed,

But he can’t grow thatch on the little patch

     On the top of his well tilled head.

Ah, man can raise acres of waving grain,

     Tall, subtle and fair to behold;

He can meet the dawn with their fields of corn,

     Green-stalked and as yellow as gold.

He can raise the roof, or the price of beef,

     He can all but raise the dead,

But he can’t raise a thatch to cover the patch

     On the top of a bald old head.

April 14, ‘10