Harvest Time
Swaying in harmony, the golden grain,
Their whistles of joy a haunting refrain,
Happy in their realms, a crowd for company,
The golden grain, swaying in harmony.
A mature child now, much to a farmer’s delight,
From unpretentious beginnings to a future bright,
It’s time now to gather the labours of love,
Much to a farmer’s delight, a mature child now.
The ploughs now rest, seeing rich rewards reap,
Decorated with praise for the promises they keep,
Succulent strands, satisfy a hungry soul, so blessed,
Seeing the rich rewards reap, the ploughs now rest.