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Old Adam

Old Adam, the crow
He's building a home in your field
Where bitter weeds grow
All around the corn

Will you be the father
That drives the thief from your home
Or let him run wild at your first born?

Now I carried the plow
To carve out a home in this world
And I carried the bow to protect the corn

Summer is over
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My hands are tired and slow
And I can't stop loving my first born

Old Adam, the crow
He's flying away from your field
And you will never know
What makes him run

I dreamed of my father
Who drove me out of his home
And I dreamed I've forgiven my wild son