The hard, strenuous life is not for me
And Ive always shunned all labour and toil
That being as it may be
I still wish I was a son of the soil.
As a toddler he played in the puddles
On the track that led to my farm
As I swerved my car to avoid him
He smiled at me without alarm.
Ive seen him walking to school
The wind blowing rain in his face
He's barefoot with a well ironed shirt
Completely at ease in his place.
I pass him by in my car
Insulated from the wind and the rain
and the dirt and germs and the people and pain
and my country and its lovely refrain.
Ive seen him standing at the tea stall
With his cutting chai in his hand
With chappals that have never seen a mall
He's at ease, he belongs to the land.
I pick my way through the garbage
Looking away from the beggars I pity
He strides by with a spring in his step
A villager at ease in my city.
Ive never seen envy in his eyes
and I see him every now and again
He knows he knows and hears what I dont
Our country and its lovely refrain.
I have much and seen many lands
An interesting life without toil
And every moment Im back in my country
I wish I was a son of the soil.