BOY, TELL THE LANDOWNER WE ARE COMMITTED FARMWORKERS

Boy, things are hard, aren't they?

We've always been planting, cultivating, irrigating,

We've been pruning, picking, packing,

Oh boy, all the "-ing's" you can have in a farmland lie in our hands

And we have been doing them diligently.

It's rather tearful we do not taste of the bountiful and 

Aesthetically pleasing produce that pass through our own hands.

Please remind him of his generous love, wide as the ocean.

Tell him to observe the adversity we endure, have mercy.

When the great harvest comes,

May he remember our toil, 

See our thick dirty sweats in the well-moistured soil 

From which the crops came-

Oh boy, our skins burn,

And our hearts, like water, boil.

Boy, humbly tell Him we are committed farmworkers.

He says we should work at whatever we do with all our heart

And we'll receive a reward from Him 

So now, tell Him all we did, and all we are doing.

I will too, as I always do.

Soon, He will compassionately bless us for life.

I know He will!