Pus on your finger, mud on your mind The tiller is broken, your garden is crying Theres been too much rain, tomatoes they split Spring was a beauty but she turned into a beast Your boy is rebellious, he refuses to work Your daughter is a fine one but allergic to dirt The Preacher came acalling, he wants a fresh ham Your wife she obliges, thaws the one you was saving So you piddle in the garden, you pick at the ground Your family is fighting, oh, but you dont hear a sound
obliges, garden, piddle, tiller, acalling