Bread

“Farmer, is the harvest ready
For we must have bread?”
“Go and look at all my fields,”
Is what the farmer said.

So we ran and saw the wheat
Standing straight and tall.
“There’s your bread,” the farmer said,
“Have no fear at all.”

“Miller, is the flour ready
For we must have bread?”
“Go and look in all my sacks,”
Is what the miller said.

So we ran and saw the flour,
Soft and white as snow.
“There’s your flour,” the miller said,
As we turned to go.

“Mother, is the oven ready
For we must have bread?”
“Go and open wide the door,”
Is what our mother said.

So we ran and saw the loaves
Crisp and brown to see.
“There’s your bread,” our mother said,
“Ready for your tea.”