Old Adam

(Bob Hoffnar/Dan Messe) Old Adam the crow He's building a home in your field Where bitter weeds grow all around the corn Will you be the father That drives the thief from your home Or let him run wild at your first born Now I carried the plow To carve out a home in this world And I carried the bow to protect the corn Summer is over My hands are tired and slow And I can't stop loving my first born Old Adam the crow He's flying away from your field And you will never know what makes him run I dreamed of my father Who drove me out of his home