Farmers, you ask for seed; we send you some,
Born of a crop we’ve been a long time growing;
We sowed it while a bitter wind was blowing,
And lived to reap it when the sun had come.
See that no tiniest grain we send is wasted.
You’ll have to plant it deep, to keep alive,
But cultivate it well, and it will thrive.
The crop this seed will yield, you’ve seldom tasted.
Take it, you who have to plant in fear.
American seed, go forth to every land;
Though tyrants all shall name you contraband,
The finest harvest man can seek is here.
This is the mighty seed called Liberty,
And he who sows that seed himself makes free.
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Comments
There’s plenty of seeds that ‘merica exports.
Wealth, opportunity, in addition to liberty.
And there’s one more called vulgarity,
Thats truly a yankee quality, of sorts.