Here sits our priest
Praying to the Gods
Leading tonight
To help grow our crops
We say our thanks
Of our live,
our families
And our crops
No matter the strife
We make our goods
We need to sell
Make a living
Rid the dry spell
Weave our rugs
Work and play
To paint our town
On the sad, grey day
Make our weapons
So no one has to starve
All day
Cut and carve
Wives care for the young
And prepare the food
Call the husbands in
As a meal is brewed
Nothing fancy
Our life is simple, and hard
Our animals watch
And keep guard
We’re nothing special
Just us
Food is grown
A simple life
