The Plough

I packed up my suitcase and left the old farm I promised my papa, I'd come to no harm And I went to the city where I was employed In a firm of accountants as an office boy I fetched and I carried, I watched and I learned And slowly but surely I rose through the firm But then I discovered my colleagues one day Massaging the figures for personal gain I said, "I'll not wallow in this house of shame" I'll plough my own furrow, I'll go my own way Gravely I listened to Reverend McBride Down at the mission house each Friday night Heaven's salvation for those who know best Hell and damnation for all of the rest Try as I might, I could not understand Why The Almighty's all merciful hand Should cast away those whose only mistake Was never to know the Christian faith The stars that we follow can lead us astray I'll plough my own furrow, I'll go my own way I fled from the capital's bourgeois malaise And trekked through the wilderness for fourteen days 'Til I found the guerrillas camped high in the hills I asked Comrade Diaz, whom I should kill I crept into town with a knife in my teeth And entered the home of the Chief of Police I stood at his bedside and raised up my blade Then I looked to the crib where his little one lay You murder tomorrow by killing today I'll plough my own furrow, I'll go my own way