I've pruned all the apples
And hauled brush away
Manured the currants
And seeded the hay
Spring work is over
And summer has come
I sure hope this season
Is better than some
Chorus:
It's hard, hard on my hard-working farm
The apples are setting
So mix up a spray
Before the curculio
Carts them away
The scab and the cotton-moth
Work busily
They each choose an apple
And leave one for me
Chorus
Boom goes the thunder
And splash comes the rain
"Fine for the famer"
The city folks claim
The orchard is flooded
The corn's beaten down
And the roof of the barn
Is blown halfway to town
Chorus
The apples are scabby
The currents have rot
There isn't a pestilence
We haven't got
The grapes are all mildewed
The cherries are too
But I'm too darn busy
To start feeling blue
Chorus
Here comes the buyer
With tears in his eyes
Telling so sadly
His wonderful lies
He lives in the poorhouse
He goes almost bare
The way we treat him
It really ain't fair
Chorus:
He don't make no money
He can't pay his rent
His profit's a measly
400 per cent
He's really an angel
He's misunderstood
So give him your shirt, boys,
Like good farmers should
Chorus
Now harvest is over
I ain't got a cent
I'm calloused and sunburned
My back's badly bent
I'm just about ruptured
My feet are so sore
Sometime I wonder
Just who I work for
Chorus
