Till We Cease Our Cry for Bread

The Farm Supports All.

Does the farmer dig the dirt?
Aye, Aye;
Does he wear a coarse shirt?
Aye, Aye;
And if his cheek is brown
With the kisses of the sun,
Is he less a gentleman?
Nay, Nay.

Does the farmer plow and sow?
Aye, Aye;
Does he wield the spade and hoe?
Aye, Aye;
And if his hand is hard,
And his feet be roughly shod,
Shall we give him less respect?
Nay, Nay.

Does the farmer work for all?
Aye, Aye;
Labors he for great and small?
Aye, Aye;
If from out the farmers store
Comes the bread for rich and poor,
Should we honor him the more?
Yea, Yea.

Give the farmer then his due —
Aye, Aye;
Though he SERVES, HE’S MASTER, TOO —
Aye, Aye;
And may Heaven its blessings shed
Down upon the farmer’s head,
‘Till we cease our cry for bread —
Aye, Aye.

MYRA MYRTLE.

Cedar Falls Gazette (Cedar Falls, Iowa) Apr 6, 1860

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