The ploughboy plods behind his horse
To keep the ploughshare in its course
The sun and rain draw up the grain
What is buried will rise again
To line the land with furrows straight
The plough team work from dawn till late
Figures crawling 'cross wide fields
Make the bed for summer's yields
The steady pressure of man's hand
Leaves his sign upon the land
In time the fields give what we need
For bread and ale on which we feed
2000 seasons go to show
We still need fields for crops to grow
So praise the lonely tractor boy
Who's iron plough we all employ
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem