ottomanelli, his wife and two cousins
had crossed the atlantic to see what they'd find
one was a farmer and one was a baker
and one was a painter, a maker of signs

ottomanelli had one dream above all
to eat and to drink and to make wine in peace
he'd run from the fascists, he'd run from the germans
he'd now run a dairy farm in the northeast

chorus:
late in the night he grew cold in the shadows
tried to recall his homeland, his dream
and all to what end were they following jesus
trying to focus and follow the gleam

because he believed in the pope he had children
there were more mouths to feed but more hands to help
to milk all the cows and deliver the produce
and help plant the com and rnake wine in the fall

the years that were peacefu1 they soon were unsettled
by salesmen come calling with things they don't need
the children grew older, the children grew bolder
went looking for jobs to buy all those things

the oldest went out, took a job in a factory
making the gunsights for colt m-16's
they were much in demand for a war off in asia
he worked overtime and grew wealthy and clean

one day he was watching a televised ball game
a can of budweiser and popcorn in hand
"we interrupt program to bring you the great news
the war it is over, your jobs have been canned"

ottomanelli was too old to farm now
the fields they lay fallow, he sold all his cows
he could not compete with the lobbying dairy-marts
and their certified, pasteurized, homogenized now

and no one had learned how to plant all the cornfields
or help make the wine in the warm autumn sun
the real estate people want land to build houses
so where do you go when your dreams are all done