she talked in riddles she talked in three dimensional she held my lazy head when evening light was gone she called the breaks i ploughed the lower forty when she called me plough boy say what paddock were you on summer sun when my day is done god help me just to shade my eyes harvest moon she ll be rising soon god willing and the creek don t rise she knows i m right she knows i m so conventional she knows i m cultivated furrows on my brow the land was mortified the land was indivisible i tell you someday we will reap what we might sow don t rise she calls me captain she knows i m so industrious she fills my tea cup when the window shades are down we load the pick up we re making individual we re making all that hay while driving into town don t rise harvest moon she ll be rising soon god willing and the creek don t rise don t rise