Stay away from our field
The land of my will
Stay away from this soil my last name has Till
And keep away from my lover, my neighbors, and friend
Well you make a fine offer, I see how some might give in
But I am no gambler when it comes to this farms fate
You know money may be lovely, what can it cultivate?
And you can keep your white collar and your tailored suits
You can keep all your dollars, if that's what pleases you
If you hear the farmer's prayer, see her visions vividly
You'd see that she dreams of a different kind of green
God save my town when the factories disband
And take their home's south, I pray for every idle hand
And god bless my farm, my neighbors, and my love
That he will stay with me when harvest time comes
So get away from my field
The land of my will
Get away from this soil, my last name forever Till
And what can you offer, but a wealth that fades away
You know money may be lovely, what can it cultivate?

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