The man in the garden,
He's always been there,
Cultivating the ground.
Giving rise to stares.

People would ask,
Who's garden is this?
This place is amazing.
A paradise bliss.

The man in the garden.
I say, he tilled the land.
Through the sweat of his brow,
By the work of his hand.

The green and the yellow,
The orange and the blue,
Products of the garden,
His time and his crew.

People would ask,
Does it take all his time?
No I would say,
He has a family like mine.

The ground was not the only growing he's done.
He raised a family to.
Little flowers, and trees of his own.
He raised them right and true.

The man in the garden,
Where has he gone?
The ground lays barren,
Something seems wrong.

I miss the man in the garden
He taught me so much.
That man in the garden
We all love him so much.