Papa called me to his side
And told me plain and clear,
“Son, you know my time has come
I have to move from here
Though it breaks my heart to say it
I fear I must take flight
I cannot stay here on the farm.”
I said, “Papa, stay and fight.”
He said, “The land has turned to dust
And there’s no grass or grain
And though all day it thunders,
There’s hail instead of rain
The livestock is all starving
And stricken down with blight.
I cannot stay here on the farm.”
I said, “Papa, stay and fight.”
He said, “The water’s noxious now
There’s nothing left to drink
The creek here runs as red as blood
The fish died, and they stink
The sky’s covered with locusts
The day’s as dark as night
I cannot stay here on the farm.”
I said, “Papa, stay and fight.”
I said, “Papa, we Auerbachs
Have always worked this land
We’ve built the house and barn
With our hard-working hands
We’ve suffered and we’ve struggled
And toiled with all our might.
The farm’s your home”, I said to Papa.
“You must stay and fight.”
He said, “My body’s swollen
And covered with boils and sores
It’s time to cross that river
To a home on the other shore.
And there I will be healed and whole
And bathed in gentle light.
It’s time to go, I can’t stay here.”
I said, “Papa, stay and fight.”
And told me plain and clear,
“Son, you know my time has come
I have to move from here
Though it breaks my heart to say it
I fear I must take flight
I cannot stay here on the farm.”
I said, “Papa, stay and fight.”
He said, “The land has turned to dust
And there’s no grass or grain
And though all day it thunders,
There’s hail instead of rain
The livestock is all starving
And stricken down with blight.
I cannot stay here on the farm.”
I said, “Papa, stay and fight.”
He said, “The water’s noxious now
There’s nothing left to drink
The creek here runs as red as blood
The fish died, and they stink
The sky’s covered with locusts
The day’s as dark as night
I cannot stay here on the farm.”
I said, “Papa, stay and fight.”
I said, “Papa, we Auerbachs
Have always worked this land
We’ve built the house and barn
With our hard-working hands
We’ve suffered and we’ve struggled
And toiled with all our might.
The farm’s your home”, I said to Papa.
“You must stay and fight.”
He said, “My body’s swollen
And covered with boils and sores
It’s time to cross that river
To a home on the other shore.
And there I will be healed and whole
And bathed in gentle light.
It’s time to go, I can’t stay here.”
I said, “Papa, stay and fight.”
3 comments:
aA real weeper. Nice.
Don't think I can add anything. But have been musing on the "Songs for New Depression" theme and might have one for you soon.
I was thinking maybe it could use one last verse after Papa's gone.
My own papa, by the way, (in case you were worried) is doing fine and the farm in Wyoming, OH is not at risk of being sold, so far as I know. He did however have to have something taken off his kidneys which wasn't cancer but might have been.
Oh, I thought it best perhaps to preserve the ambiguity. When in doubt, it's a useful principle.
Love to Boris.
Say I read in the news that your town is the home of student demos because of rising tuition. Hope some of those protesters are naked.
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