The barn is full!
The barn is full!
Hay is fine!
Hay is mine!
Boasts the man,
Boasts the man
Years of toil,
Fog for sight
Hands they grope,
Arms grasp air.
The needle shines!
The needle shines!
Oh, to have such spoil!
Ah, a man’s delight!
Who could ever hope
For a prize so fair?
But the barn is full,
The barn is full.
Hay is fine,
Hay is mine.
Weeps the man,
Weeps the man.
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