neighbor! neighbor! harvest! harvest!. May your 40 acres soon be of clover. Yes, indeed, and a wish every seed and by and by The sun and rain make an etching Of a million little fingers to the sky
neighbor! harvest!
Get your rocking chairs, for all your are over Clap your hands and lick your chaps, your crops are on the climb. Hey, gonna roll in plenty, spend a five or ten or twenty, And those happy harvest bells are chime. Remember when you work for mother nature you get paid by father time. Chicks are gonna cackle and every burlap sack'll be of taters and tobaccos And dozens of good and healthey greens, and if the weatherman won't upsent us Mister, you can bet us there'll be lots of crispy in your jeans Full of tater! Crispy lettuce! tomatoes! Crispy lettuce in your jeans! Plant them to live and find out what livin' means neighbor! neighbor! harvest! Happy harvest! May your forty acres soon be of clover Yes indeed! *JANE* Go on puff your corncob and no more gripes and no more groans. No mortgages or and you won't see a trace of worryin' on the face of Farmer Jones neighbor! neighbor! harvest! Happy harvest! Get your rocking for all your cares are over. Hall-ay-loo! Clap your hands and lick chops , your bumper crops are on the climb. Hey, we're roll in plenty. Spend a five or ten or twenty and those harvest bells are gonna chime. Remember, neighbor, when work for mother nature you get paid by father time!