Who Will Feed The People - Tom Paxton

If they take away my farm

If they pull me off the plough

Tell me, who will feed the people

Hell, the banker don’t know how

It’s all pages in a mystery

That he’ll never understand

Tell me, who will feed the people

If they put me off my land

If they call in all my loans

If they call the auctioneer

Tell me, who will bring the crops in

With no farm folks living here

Will the banker run the combine

Will the agent bale the hay

Tell me, who will feed the people

If they take my farm away

When my great-granddaddy Jakob

Ninety-seven years ago

Broke this sod behind two oxen

Broke his back to make it grow

Taught his sons by his example

As they taught their sons in turn

What this topsoil had to teach him

Great-granddaddy tried to learn

If they put us on the road

If they tell us we must go

Who will come to take our places

Who’ll know half the things we know

Who’ll know every inch of topsoil

As it trickles through the hand

Tell me, who will feed the people

If they put me off my land

When my great-granddaddy Jakob

Ninety-seven years ago

Broke this sod behind two oxen

Broke his back to make it grow

Taught his sons by his example

As they taught their sons in turn

What this topsoil had to teach him

Great-granddaddy tried to learn

If they take away my farm

If they pull me off the plough

Tell me, who will feed the people

Hell, the banker don’t know how

It’s all pages in a mystery

That he’ll never understand

Tell me, who will feed the people

If they put me off my land

It’s all pages in a mystery

That he’ll never understand

Tell me, who would feed the people

If they put me off my land