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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
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
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