Am C G Am G Find me a sword with a pacifist's soul. Harvester! Harvester! Am C F C Am C E Making peace while the ages roll. So many years to roam. Am G F E From the northland ice to the jungle's heat, C G D E He fought and killed, never knew defeat, Am D F C G Am But he was happier cutting wheat. Harvester's come home. He was forged by a farmer's son. Harvester! Harvester! Made from a plowshare and a gun. So many years to roam. An honest tool in the soldier's hand, He did his job at the war's demand. But his only cause was to save his land. Harvester's come home. He killed as clean as a butcher's blade. Harvester! Harvester! A skilled workman at the slicing trade. So many years to roam. When the war was won and the treaties sealed, The sword went home to a better yield, Reaping crops in a poor man's field. Harvester's come home. War and peace roll 'round the years. Harvester! Harvester! Killing men or butchering steers. So many years to roam. He'd much rather cut corn than men, Farming now as he did then. Do not feed him on war again. Harvester's come home.
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