Farming though hard is foremost trade
Men ply at will but ploughmen lead.
Tillers are linch-pin of mankind
Bearing the rest who cannot tend.
They live who live to plough and eat
The rest behind them bow and eat.
Who have the shade of comful crest
Under their umbra umbrellas rest.
Who till and eat, beg not; nought hide
But give to those who are in need.
Should ploughmen sit folding their hands
Desire - free monks too suffer wants.
Moulds dried to quarter-dust ensure
Rich crops without handful manure.
Better manure than plough; then weed;
Than irrigating, better guard.
If landsmen sit sans moving about
The field like wife will sulk and pout.
Fair good earth will laugh to see
Idlers pleading poverty.
FARMING
