But what makes us mad Are the things that Joseph tells us of the dreams he's often had
JOSEPH:
I dreamed that in the fields one day, the corn gave me a sign Your eleven sheaves of corn all turned and bowed to mine My sheaf was quite a sight to see, a golden sheaf and tall Yours were green and second-rate and really rather small
BROTHERS:
This is not the kind of thing we brothers like to hear It seems to us that Joseph and his dreams should disappear
JOSEPH:
I dreamed I saw eleven stars, the sun and moon and sky Bowing down before my star, it made me wonder why Could it be that I was born for higher things than you? A post in someone's government, a ministry or two?
BROTHERS:
The dreams of our dear brother are the decade's biggest yawn His talk of stars and golden sheaves is just a load of corn Not only is he tactless but he's also rather dim For there's eleven of us and there's only one of him
The dreams of course will not come true That is, we think they won't come true That is, we hope they won't come true What if he's right all along?
The dreams are more than crystal clear, the writing on the wall Means that Joseph some day soon will rise above us all The accuracy of the dreams we brothers do not know But one thing we are sure about -- the dreamer has to go!
