I’m My Own Intern
Sung to the tune I’m My Own Grandpa, lyrics by John Wiley
Many, many years ago when I was forty-three We bought a fifty acre farm way out in the country. We thought the perfect cure for all that nervous city strife Would be the easy-going slow lane pace of country life. We got some cows and chickens and some goats and pigs and rabbits. We struggled with all the chores until they became habits. We grew more vegetables than it would ever take to sate us So we thought we’d sell the surplus and get CAUV status. Chorus I’m my own intern I’m my own intern It sounds funny I know But it really is so I’m my own intern. We composted and transplanted and pruned and irrigated. We fed and milked and weaned and when we had to we castrated. We certified and took great pride in never having cheated. We kept a blog and Facebook page and for a while we tweeted. We went to farmers markets and we made deliveries To local-sourcing restaurants and co-op groceries. We hugged friends and took workshops at eco farming conferences. Wrote letters to Senators about how mean Monsanto is. Chorus I’m my own intern I’m my own intern It sounds funny I know But it really is so I’m my own intern. If I don’t count my time, the mortgage, or the pickup truck Or the tractor or the many times I’ve counted on my luck Then you could say our farm is almost sort of self-sustaining. Not that it matters much, I’m too tired for complaining. Chorus I’m my own intern I’m my own intern It sounds funny I know But it really is so Oh, I’m my own intern.
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