Words & Music by Steven Page & Ed Robertson



I tend the wheat field that makes your bread.

I bind the sweet veal, pluck the hens that make your bed.

Mother Nature & Mother Earth

Are two of three women who dictate what I'm worth



Chorus:

I'm the farmer.

I work in the fields all day.

Don't mean to alarm her,

But I know it was meant to be this way.



You cried a tear, I wiped it dry

I put you up upon a pedestal so high

if you should waiver, if you should sway

I'd catch you, spread my tiny wings and fly away.

You signed your picture with an O and X

I bet you don't write "love" each time you sign your cheques.



Chorus



All of this corn I grow I grow it all for you

I took a hatchet to the radio I did it all for you

You could have written back,

You could have said "Thank you"

I guess you've got better things,

better things to do.



You say you love me, is that the truth?

Although they've heard the songs, my friends want living proof.

I know your address, I ring the bell

I bring you flowers and a .22 with shells.



I'm the farmer

I work in the fields all day

Never wanted to harm her

But I know it was meant to be this way