Picking berries, in the early morning.
Picking berries, while others lay snoring.
Pick a berry, pick a one, pick a two, and pick a three.
Pick one for the man who owns the land, pick one for you, and pick one for free.
Laugh, and pick as others lay sleeping.
Dance and know you’re working for free, laugh and sing.
Everyone’s complaining, complaining because money it doesn’t grow on trees.
Laugh, and dance, sing and shout, because soon you’ll take your ease —
Pick a berry, pick a one, pick a two, pick a box, picking for less than minimum wage.
Step a lively, step a quick, rushing to beat the heat, forgetting your age.
Laugh and rush, pick a box, pick two, pick three, hurry fast.
Know the season it’ll soon be past.
Work hard all morning, hurry fast, you must beat the heat.
Take a break; take a shower, now it’s time to eat.
Take a walk, go to town, find a second job, and hurry fast.
The day it’s early, take a second job, hurry quick, the harvest will soon be past.
Work a second job, hurry fast, work faster, and take a break, rush to collect the morning dues.
Laugh when you see other’s complaining of wages full of so many rues.
Laugh, because you know everyone’s working for not.
Sing and dance because you can still see the day before the sun becomes hot.
Laugh, and dance, sing because there’s still one more berry bush to pick.
Picking strawberries, blackberries, blueberries, mindful of the heat, lest you become sick'”
Getting up early, hurrying so fast, and forgetting once again, the pain of yesterday.
Rushing, believing in vain, you’ll make enough to keep the collector’s at bay.
Picking fast, picking in a hurry, yet still the heat comes up causing you to doubt your sanity.
Short-changed by the inspectors, short-changed in pay, still you come yet once again, laughing as you see me'”
Laughing we agree, the money it never grew on trees, it was on berry bushes.
So we rush, hurry, and look for the money lost amongst the well-worn wishes.
Working, so fast, time slips by; the sun cools are mental clarity.
Shifting our focus to the hope of finishing yet one more box, thankful for yet another glass of tea'”
Pick a berry, pick a one, and pick a two.
Know the pay it is too low, yet the bills they are all due.
Rush in a hurry, to beat the heat, forget your age.
Know that it’ll take your whole family picking fast, to make a little extra wage.
Pick so fast, hoping all the berries they’ll pass.
Save every dime, forget about shopping, exhaustion and heat both soon will pass —
Don’t worry about tomorrow, because today’s box it’s not yet full.
Pick one more shell, pick one more berry, and pick one more box, run, laugh, sing, as other’s linger finding life ever so dull.
Don’t worry about today, because the berries are still on the vine.
Hurry fast, look, and find one more box fill it up, pass it on down the line.
Forget your working for pennies; forget you’ve volunteered for the wage of a slave.
At least you’ve come out of your hidden cave.
Find a friend, see the sun come up, hear the rooster crow.
Remember at last all this world it will soon be gone, melted away forever you know.
Work today, do your best, pay your debts, but remember as the berries often melt so too will we one day fade.
Our life it is but a vapor, yet forever someone will be affected by the waters we did first wade.
Wade carefully; for another is watching you.
Carry your boxes, to the inspector’s tables, remembering that Heaven’s skies are forever blue.
Soon your life it will be over, another will rush to pick the row you’ll leave behind.
Clear your rows today, but leave with words of kindness, because soon you’ll only be remembered in another’s mind.
Strive to leave good memories, pleasant and fragrant as berries fully ripe.
Toss aside every ill thought and gripe.
‘˜Cause no matter how your pennies and dollar’s fall, no matter the size of your purse.
There’s something you should know, no one drives their own hearse —
Live, love, laugh and remember this world it is but a temporarily place.
A place we all must stop and decide where in eternity we’ll reside, my friend rich or poor it matters not, if this world you depart neglectful of the only saving grace —