Old Pancho

More about Old Pancho

Old Pancho was a humble man,
A farmer with a weathered tan,
He worked his fields from dawn 'til dusk,
With calloused hands, and heart robust.
His eyes were bright, though aged and wise,
A twinkle there, a hint of surprise,
For Pancho knew life's simple grace,
In every sunrise, in each new place.
He plowed his land with mule and plow,
Underneath the hot sun's scorching glow,
With sweat upon his furrowed brow,
He toiled away, no time to slow.
He sowed his seeds with careful hand,
And watched them grow across the land,
He tended them with love and care,
As if they were his children fair.
The rains would come, the winds would blow,
Yet Pancho never ceased to sow,
He worked the land with steadfast might,
From morning's dawn till starry night.
And when the harvest time arrived,
With bounteous crops, he truly thrived,
His heart was full, his soul content,
With nature's gifts, so truly meant.
For Pancho knew the cycle well,
Of planting, reaping, and the swell,
Of life's abundance, ever new,
Renewing hope with each day's view.
So as he walked his fields each day,
With weathered hands and hair of gray,
He sang a song of gratitude,
For life's rich blessings, unabated.
And though his body aged and tired,
His spirit soared, never expired,
For Pancho knew the secret true,
That life's true riches, are found in you.