The Herdsman has my heart
Yet I stand by
The Herdsman has my heart
Yet I am still
He does not know my face
He does not feel my care
He does not know that I am there
His follow is to tilth and fold
To fertiliser bag and young store sold
I have seen his hand in grain
I have seen his feet tread lane
I have seen his hair grease hat
I have seen his stick stub rat
The Herdsman has my heart
The Herdsman has no hold
The Herdsman’s hands are free
I just grow old