Gospel Plow

Here is an old American folk hymn titled "Gospel Plow":

Well, I've got my hands on the Gospel plow
I won't take nothin' for my journey now
But keep my hands on the plow of God

Well, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John
All those prophets have to Glory gone
So keep your hands on the plow of God

Hold on, hold on, I say hold on
Keep you hands on the plow, hold on

I've never been to Heaven but I been told
The streets up there are made of gold
So keep your hands on the plow of God

Sister Mary she was bound in chains
But every link was dear Jesus' Name
So keep you hands on the plow of God

Well, I've got my hands on the Gospel plow
And I won't take nothin' for my journey now
Keep your hands on the plow of God

Hold on, hold on
Keep you hands on the plow, hold on

A Crime So Grisly and Fey

The chickens are clucking
The turkeys are gobbling
In the sand the ostrich buried his head
The cows are a-mooing
The sheep are a-baaing
And old farmer MacDonald is dead.

The geese are a-hissing
The swans are dismissing
What all the rumors have said
Though the wife is now missing
But all are insisting
Not by their hand has he bled.

The hogs are all oinking
The dogs increased all their barking
And the cats denied doing all wrong
But who can be involved?
Can this crime be solved?
The murder on Old MacDonald's farm.

Come now all you sly sleuths
Can you discover the proof
That led to arrest on that day
For a crime so grisly and fey?
I have made it so clear
From what you read here,
I practically gave it away.