The Farmers

They were born, lived and dead With at ease always in farming Farmers, the people the contented ones Their service the people everywhere enjoys The toiling masses, they are important Every day they sacrifices the life in working The fruits, vegetables, pulses, and grains The good harvests expectations in their words They sings while the cloud brings the rain They cries when it is flood and destroy Every time they have a problem to sell Their own sweet and blood made the food Their existence and well being a must for world They were born, lived, and dead In actual sense farmers have no death They are living and will be reborn The nice ones who spent their life for human welfare.