Farm labourers


This land is now owned by a farmer called Lovely Earth,
Wrong compost has been put on the land by the previous farmer ,
Now he has to clear up the white rubbish, cost millions worth.
The environmental inspector will be here, so come on labourers!

Four men and a girl in a rolls, with safety boots and gloves, and black bag.
Two British, one Polish, one Chinese, and the black man from Congo.
They bend down and pick up plastic bags, toothbrushes, and bottle caps.
Walking down to the hedge and back like plantation slavery Negro.

It's a nice day with bright sunshine and gentle breeze blowing on the face,
The tranquil dale far from bustling city, a pleasant green land with tall trees,
 Bird twittering, cows mooing, and lambs grazing on the far hill with grace,
The labourers take the break eating their sandwiches and drinking teas.

"Oh, my leg's killing me!" the Polish girls complains,
Picking rubbish on a farm is boring and my legs and bum's sore,
But I enjoy the sunshine, and gentle breeze, the break is a paid picnic,
Every job seems to me a holiday and much more.

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