On The 'Stead

As we live, we surely die,

The circle of life passes us by.

In all its forms, our food is bred,

We grow and nurture on the 'stead.

We saw him take his final breath,

We grieve and give meaning to his death.

In all its forms, our food is bred,

We grow and nurture on the 'stead.

Children cry and ask us why,

Sometimes life just has to die.

In all its forms, our food is bred,

We grow and nurture on the 'stead.

Life is tilled before the harvest,

We feel the pain when we invest.

In all its forms, our food is bred,

We grow and nurture on the 'stead.

We butchered still and learn a lot,

For all those lives are not for not.

In all its forms, our food is bred,

We grow and nurture on the 'stead.

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