In the heart of the valley where the river was slowBeneath the old oak where the wildflowers growThe soil's dark and rich, so fertile and deepA promise of harvest where hope went to sleepWith compost and bone meal we work through the nightUnder the moon's glow till the morning's first lightThere's blood, meal, and fish, a loss of magic so grandFeeding the earth, shaping the landThere's a road, here's a crow's tailA fertile ground, and how it prevailsFrom the pines of dust, sweat, and soilLife springs anew from the fertile sandManure from the stables mixed in the hayClay and the sand all laid down that dayMulch from the forest, leaves brown and oldTurning the fields into sunshine and goldWith some rock dust, how fine is the mist?Minerals and treasures, none can resistA pothole from caves and the sea we've so greenLife springs anew from the fertile sandMother Earth wears a flint-touchGo the road, hear the crow's tailA fertile ground, and how it prevailsFrom the pines of dust, sweat, and soilLife springs anew from the fertile sandMother Earth wears a flint-touchGather round, here's a crow's tailA fertile ground, and how it prevailsFrom the pines of dust, sweat, and soilLife springs anew from the fertile sandThank you for watching.Bye.