Farmer

I had to leave the farm when I was 15
Too many mouths for what we had
And I bummed my way to the coast
But things out there were just as bad

The wind blows the topsoil to the sea
What’s left is barren and grey

I came home to make my stand behind the plow
And odd jobs when the times got tight
But the work faces me every morning
And the worry haunts me all the night

The wind blows the topsoil to the sea
What’s left is barren and grey

I can’t bear to see kids starving on TV
Poor folks can’t afford enough to eat
Grain rots in storage for the price
The market has no worries for what’s right

The wind blows the topsoil to the sea
What’s left is barren and grey

When I’m dead the kids’ll dump my ashes
Into the oil of our Allis ‘53
And I’ll live just as long as that tractor
And die when the rust carries me to the sea

The wind blows the topsoil to the sea
What’s left is barren and grey

These crops have gone from green to brown
And my hair’s gone from brown to grey
And the sun will surely shine upon these fields
And I will kneel to pray for rain today

The wind blows the topsoil to the sea
What’s left is barren and grey