John, I know that you are sleeping and you might not be able to hear,
But I’m afraid that you’ve lost some weight; that is what I fear
You spend your days working too hard, trying to earn your keep
But in reality; you’re wearing out and are too deprived of sleep
Maira, it’s not for much longer, just until our work is finished
Then I promise I’ll leave the fields, for I am not yet diminished
I admit that I long for Sunday, for it is the only day I rest
I must continue my work; although it puts my stamina to the test.
Oh goodness me, I disturbed your sleep. John please forgive my speech
I cannot make decisions for you, or even presume to preach
Wee bumpie is wriggling around tonight; it loves to hear your voice
John my dear, would you leave the fields if you were given the choice?
©Sophie Bowns 2011-2014