"Today We Laid a Farmer to Rest"; That day, we laid a farmer to rest
I pulled his last blanket up over his chest
We put him to rest deep down in the clay
We all mourned his passage on that mournful day
Where he was going, we didn’t know
Was it a place where the summer winds blow?
Gentle and soft, would it put him at ease?
Would he smell that sweet smell of the grass and the trees?
Would he feel the warm drops of a warm summer’s rain?
Would he finally find peace in great fields of grain?
On a late muggy night, as the time comes to reap
Would a chorus of crickets sing him slowly to sleep?
When harvest time comes, do the leaves turn to gold?
Will he live in that moment and never get old?
He died in that season, we all thought too soon
Was he looking up now at that same harvest moon?
Winter is brutal, and strikes without care
A farmer, by trade, knows life is unfair
But echoes of joyfulness put me at ease
I’ll always feel Him on a warm summer breeze
-- Scuzz Twittly
