Plough the land and pull the weed,
Burn the weed and burn the seed,
Grain and fruit our children need,
Tomorrow is what we should heed.

It spreads far; it spreads wide;
Allows no grain to grow beside,
It sucks the earth and drains its mirth,
No healthy fruit can take its birth.

Too many hands with too many tools
For too many days and too many nights
Should burn the seed and pull the root
To allow the growth of grain and fruit.

We may suffer today; you may starve tonight;
But be sure my young man, tomorrow is bright;
Ye can feast your eyes with magnificent sight
Of future children dancing with spright.