Born in serfdom
to serve and obey their masters
back breaking toiling from dawn to dusk
some say born on the wrong tracks
others talk of salt and earthy folks
but hicks are hicks
whether in concrete towns or Shires and villages
calloused hands and calloused minds
born to rubberneck from below
and plant away their sorrow and pain
they are perennial farmers mired in doubts
for their futures unknown
and no penny for their thoughts
its all about digging dirt
and sowing seeds