When he was a boy, sittin' in school,
Starin' out the window at the fields he knew,
All that he wanted was to be there too,
Drivin' his tractor through the mornin dew.
Dust from the sun, mud from the rain,
Felt like an honor to him all the same.
It's the simplest thing, he's a self taught man,
He loves his work because he loves the land.
Chorus:
He can change the hills, plant the trees,
Dig the wells, spread the seeds,
Mow the fields, plough the streets,
In his home town.
The seasons roll by, year after year.
He's worked all his life and he's worked right here.
The winter's go slow if the snows don't come,
But it's soon to be summer when the tractors hum. (repeat chorus)
I've seen him do things I just can't believe,
Makes gentle giants of those big machines.
He moves a boulder like a paper bag.
He moves a tree like it was all he had.
Blessed is the soul who has truly found
Something to rest on while the world turns 'round.
I think he'd say this is how he feels
When the dark earth is turning underneath his wheels.
(repeat Chorus)