by Joe Brent Gilmore
Too little rain and too much heat,
Scrambled eggs and smoked pork meat.
Flies, manure, and not much shade,
GOOD says he, if a dollar he’s made.
Up hours before down, still work’n at dusk,
Can’t take time out or he’ll go bust.
Truck needs tires and tractor’s broke,
The constant need for cash is no joke.
Breakfast at four, lunch in the field,
To hope he’ll be done by dark just not real.
Wife says dinner might be late,
Cause PTA won’t be over ’till eight.
Crop was in early but battered by frost,
Have to sow it again, or all will be lost.
Sun up Sun down, each days the same.
Its all up to the banker, what’s his name?
Dry fields, cloudless skys,
Long hours, potato pies,
Chicken feed and doggie doo,
Horses, cattle, and grandkids too.
Black birds caw and rabbits hop,
Dog just lets em eat the crop.
Fence is down the cows are out.
What the hecks it all about?
Feed prices up and stock prices down,
Gas so expensive can’t get to town.
Haven’t had a vacation in many-a-year,
But can’t go now, harvest times almost here.
Pants are torn, shirt needs mend’n,
Banker says foreclosure pend’n.
Sun up, Sun down, each days the same.
It’s all up to the banker, What his name?
Barn in shambles and needs a new door,
Could pay loan low interest, but banker wants more.
House needs paint’n, roof leaks too,
With all its more than man can do.
Daughters in college, tuition is due,
Sons gett’n married and leave’n too.
Could have used more help this year,
But thru it all he’ll persever.
Be it wise, be it foolish, he’ll do it again,
Cause he loves the land as if his best friend.
And he loves God and country, and do’n what’s right.
And he’ll go help his neightbor, if it takes him all night.
So out of bed early and do’n his best,
Much work to be done before he can rest.
Sun up, Sund down, each days the same.
But it’s up to the banker, WHAT’S HIS NAME?