we were farmers once

we were farmers once a long time ago
our faces were round and sturdy
we sang songs as we hefted hay
to the plink of the hurdy-gurdy

when you came around with your bottles of beer
the boys and the men all sang praises
and when they were cold and afizz we would cheer
for the break in the day and its hazes

how does a story ever begin
one day is a day like the next
until something happens to throw a wrench in
and get these fine peasant folks vexed

well one day some beef-faced jabronie came up
on his horse and said blah blah blah english
we weren't even left forty minutes to sup
we left on a prayer and a winglish

and you sat alone on a log deep with moss
and cried for us wretched and shaken
you said nothing beloved can really be lost
but basically you were mistaken