Out in the country, yes, it is me
But I am making plans you will see
Sitting and sighing all the long day,
People may think that I should stay.
I don't like it, and I'm not going to try
For I can be quiet after I die
Stand at the window, look out in vain,
All one ever sees is sunshine or ran.
And clouds that pass over the sky,
Oh, so lonesome I shall cry,
No, why should I stay here along,
Why not go back home!
Grow not too high or too far away from home
Greater is love than golden dome
Though work and duty may you require
Only love will fill the heart's desire
The sun from where all beauty starts
And the moon with love and broken hearts
This world with all its joy there are some who weep
The bright day, the sun, the earth, death and sleep
Trees that bud and the flowers blossom and die,
The world forgets as time goes by
But hearts that are broken and life so bare
Struggle with hope and fail when you are not there.
I am living in a cabin that Abe Lincoln passed by.
It makes me so unhappy I almost cry.
I have very high ambitions but am without hope
Unless some kind benefactor comes along with the dope.
Reading by the fireplace is alright through the day,
But at night I prefer the real modern way.
I am not interested in cattle, clover, or pea hay,
But it seems that in this latter, I haven't much to say.
Way out here in the country; yes, it is me,
But I am making plans you will see
Sitting and sighing all the long day
People may think that I should stay
But I don't like it and I am not going to try
For you can be quiet after you die
Stand at the window; look out in vain
All one ever sees is sunshine or rain
Living in the country upon a hill
Is a very remote idea of getting a thrill
The crowing of the rooster and the squeaking of the goose
Oh Lord, please let me be footloose
That I don't like the country is what I am trying to tell
And soon I shall say, “Goodbye, old Farm, farewell.”