Joseph's coat annoyed his brothers
But what makes us mad
Are the things that Joseph tells us of the dreams he's often had
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
This is not the kind of thing we brothers like to hear
It seems to us that Joseph and his dreams should disappear
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?
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!