Beneath the golden sun, they toil and sow,
With hands that nurture life, they make it grow,
In fields so vast and skies so wide,
Their hearts beat with the rhythm of the tide.

The morning dew is their silent friend,
As they meet the dawn with a steadfast bend,
Through storms and droughts, they stand so tall,
The farmers, the guardians of us all.

From dawn till dusk, they work with care,
Weaving dreams in the fragrant air,
Their legacy etched in every grain,
A testament to the joy and pain.

So let us honor these humble souls,
Whose silent strength and endless roles,
Sustain the world with their gentle hands,
The farmers, the stewards of our lands.