Ode to Da

An Ode to Da

A man picks fertile land
And plants his crops
And tends them well
And hopes they grow

Up with the birds
He toils and sweats
Food and water and
Stakes to grow straight

Never to rest
When his bones ache
Never to pause
Till the harvest in

Yet Da can smile
As he views his field
A bumper crop is his today

An Ancient Gaelic Ode
Sung at the Harvest Festival

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