How I hate the wheat
How I hate the new-sown field
How I hate the thought
Of people fed and filled
How I hate the sight of land
Regular and tilled
Had I but a weapon
Then I should have killed
Let them choke upon their bread
Hallucinate and fall down dead
I will salt their field with stone
Undo all that they have done
Curse their land with pain and blight
All the work of just one night
At midnight through the fields he ran
A bitter twisted vengeful man
A dark night for a darker deed
A'scattering the darnel seed
Left and right he sows corruption
A study in stern concentration
Without a moment's interruption
Sowing seeds of his own damnation
When the grain be gathered in
We'll feed darnel bread to him
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