I've got a spade and a pick-axe And a hundred miles square of land to churn about My old horse is weary but sincerely I believe that he can pull a plough Well I've moved into the jungle of the agriculture rumble, To grow my own food And I'll dig and plough and scrape the weeds Till I succeed in seeing cabbage growing through Now I'm a farmer, and I'm digging, digging, digging, digging, digging Now I'm a farmer, and I'm digging, digging, digging, digging, digging It's alarming how charming it is to be a-farming How calming and balming the effect of the air Well, I farmed for a year and grew a crop of corn That stretched as far as the eye can see That's a whole lot of cornflakes, Near enough to feed New York till 1973 Cultivation is my station and the nation Buys my corn from me immediately