The Who

I've got a spade and a pick-axe
And a hundred miles square of land to churn about
My old horse is weary but sincerely
I believe that he can pull a plough
Well I've moved into the jungle of the agriculture rumble,
To grow my own food
And I'll dig and plough and scrape the weeds
Till I succeed in seeing cabbage growing through
Now I'm a farmer, and I'm digging, digging, digging, digging, digging
Now I'm a farmer, and I'm digging, digging, digging, digging, digging
It's alarming how charming it is to be a-farming
How calming and balming the effect of the air
Well, I farmed for a year and grew a crop of corn
That stretched as far as the eye can see
That's a whole lot of cornflakes,
Near enough to feed New York till 1973
Cultivation is my station and the nation
Buys my corn from me immediately