Toil At Soil

In the scorching heat of the Sun

He allows his body to burn

And various crops churn

And feeds us to earn

 

Eagerly waits for the rain

To protect his crop main

Even if finances are in drain

For he has to feed the country again and again

 

No one takes more risk than him

More rain or less rain he is at the brim

Either way, finances he has to trim

For he knows not what will hit him

 

Uncertainties are his way of life

And the mind is always at strife

Two bad seasons towards poverty his life drives

Leading to suicide with rope or knives

 

No, he does not require pity

As he is great and gritty

He just requires crop and price protection kitty

Whenever he is put to uncertainty

Even when temperatures boil

He is there at Soil to Toil

His plans foil

Only when nature spoil