Don't know if you are still looking for the lyrics but I just came across an old 78 record cut by an uncle of mine. He worked in radio, broom industry, and farming from the 40's-60's. He made a record for my mother to send to her parents in California during WWII. He says on the record that he will just speak a poem that he knows. And I've tried to transcribe it.
samptg@stlo.mercy.net

Down On The Farm

Down on the farm 'bout half past four;
You slip on your pants and sneak out the door.
Out of the yard you just run like the dickens;
To milk ten cows and feed the chickens.

You clean out the barn, curry Nancy and Jigs;
Separate the cream and slop the pigs.
Work two hours and eat like a Turk.
And Lord I'm just fit as a fiddle for a full day's work.

Then I grease the wagon, and throw on the rack;
Put a jug of water and an old grain sack.
And look over yonder just and sure as I'm born;
Them cattle's on the rampage and the cows are in the corn.

I start across the meadow, I run a mile or two;
I'm heaving like I'm wind broke, and I'm wet clear through.
I get back to the horses then I'm recompensed
And old Nancy gets astraddle of the barbed wired fence.
With joints all an aching and muscles in a jerk;
I'm just as fit as a fiddle for a full day's work.

Then when fall rolls round and winters nigh;
I figure up the books and have a big sigh.
I worked all year and didn't make a thang (thing);
I got less cash than I had last spring.
Now some people tell us that there ain't no,
Well they just never did farm, so how could they know.

Then when fall rolls round, I take another chance;
While the fringe grows longer on my old grey pants.
I give my spinners a hitch, my belt another jerk;
And by heck I'm ready for another years work.

Record cut at Southwestern Junior College, Keene, TX
Poem told/recorded by Jackie Johnston, circa 1944.