Words & Music by Steven Page & Ed Robertson
I tend the wheat field that makes your bread.
I bind the sweet veal, pluck the hens that make your bed.
Mother Nature & Mother Earth
Are two 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.
You cried a tear, I wiped it dry
I put you up upon a pedestal so high
if you should waiver, if you should sway
I'd catch you, spread my tiny wings and fly away.
You signed your picture with an O and X
I bet you don't write "love" each time you sign your cheques.
All of this corn I grow I grow it all for you
I took a hatchet to the radio I did it all for you
You could have written back,
You could have said "Thank you"
I guess you've got better things,
better things to do.
You say you love me, is that the truth?
Although they've heard the songs, my friends want living proof.
I know your address, I ring the bell
I bring you flowers and a .22 with shells.
I'm the farmer
I work in the fields all day
Never wanted to harm her
But I know it was meant to be this way