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To India's Farmers
In India's land,

there's

a farmer not grand

With fields so vast and

crops he planned.

He rises with the sun,

his day has begun

To tend to his crops,

raining or not.

With calloused hands,

and a heart full of

pride

He works the land,

side by side.


With cattle and plows,

and seeds to sow

He brings forth the

bounty, and watches it

grow.

His crops are his pride,

a symbol of might

Feeding the masses,

day and night.

With rice and wheat,

lentils and corn

He provides for his

people, never forlorn.

In India's heat, and its

monsoon rain

He perseveres, with

toil and sometimes

pain.

For he knows his work,

is crucial and kind

Nourishing the land,

and the people

combined.

So here's to the farmer,

of India's soil.

With crops so rich, and

a heart so royal.

May his fields forever

be lucious and green,

And his harvest always,

bountiful and serene.



© Charles Kemp