She talked in riddles   She talked in three dimensional   She held my lazy head when evening light was gone   She called the breaks   I ploughed the lower forty when   She called me plough boy   Say what paddock were you on      Summer sun when my day is done   God help me just to shade my eyes   Harvest moon she'll be rising soon   God willing and the creek don't rise      She knows I'm right   She knows I'm so conventional   She knows I'm cultivated furrows on my brow   The land was mortified   The land was indivisible   I tell you someday we will reap what we might sow      Don't rise      She calls me Captain   She knows I'm so industrious   She fills my tea - cup when the window shades are down   We load the pick - up   We're making individual   We're making all that hay while driving into town      Don't rise      Harvest moon she'll be rising soon   God willing and the creek don't rise      Don't rise