Mike Mangione says it best:
"Lonely is the shadow lit by the moon
Heavy is the burden that comes too soon
The fields are hot and heavy and filled with stone
I'm going to work the land of my father 'till the seed has been sown
I'm going to make it rain somehow
I'm gonna make it rain somehow
On the fields of evermore
My hands have learned from watching, my heart from pain
When the bundle falls we'll burn 'em all to refine the yield again
My cracked hands hold the rhythm
I walk the furrow with an offering
I can't wash my hands too often boys on account of the burn and sting."