Classic Poem

O the praties are so small
Over here, over here,
O the praties are so small
That we dig them in the Fall,
And we eat them skin and all,
Full of fear, full of fear.

O I wish we all were geese
Night and morn, night and morn,
O I wish we all were geese,
For they live and die in peace,
Till the day of their decease,
Eatin' corn, eatin' corn.

O we're down into the dust,
Over here, over here,
O we're down into the dust,
But the Lord in whom we trust
Will yet give us crumb for crust
Over here, over here.