Men of the fields, men of the fields
Men of the seasons and the soul,
Strong hearts and hands molding the lands,
All over earth they toil.
Down in the fields, nine in the morning,
Three hours work already done,
Care for the corn,care for the cows,
Care for the land we need.
God moves the sun, noon brings the weary man
Home to his table and his grace.
Bow on out knees, thankful that these
Days are our very own.
Life means our work. Home means our children.
Love means each other every day.
Strong hearts and hands molding the lands,
Over the earth they toil.
