Why do they try to placate me,

When I'm a fool, grown old.

They ought to know by now

My temper is already charged.

Light not a fuse with tempered wit,

Or I'll match it in spades.

Just a peacful guy, with not much to say.

So leave me alone and go your way.

The corn stalks sway in the wind,

Heavy with produce, a farmers day.

They are so peaceful, never argue,

Just friends with the sun and earth below.

Would that we could remain as calm,

And produce what God has intended.

Many do and many don't, tempers all frayed.

Wars and the dead seem to be eternal friends.