Farmer’s Letter to the President

1929 October 23, to the president of the USA, Washington, DC
Kind sir I take my pen in hand to drop you just a line
I’ve got some things to talk about that’s long been on my mind
I know you’ll understand, sir, of course, I mean no harm
I only want to ask you, sir, some things about my farm

I farm my land for 20 years but now I must admit
I cannot go on the way things are and yet I hate quit
I farmed my land for 20 years there’s something wrong, I guess
Too poor to live, to poor to die, we’re sure in a terrible mess

I figured it out from every side, the figures, herein I give
Plеase work it out and let me know how can a poor farmеr live?
Now figure it out in Washington, show us in white and black
Why the money we put on our farm we never do get back

I mortgaged my mules to buy the seed and in order to stay on top
I mortgaged my barn and mortgaged my farm to pay for gathering the crop
Now the crop is in and it’s alright, the corn was a little rotten
The cotton is fine, got plenty of it, but sir, we cannot eat cotton

Our cattle don’t look so very well, our hogs are powerful thin
The summer was hard, the winter looks bad, it’s an awful mess we’re in
I tried to fatten up my stock, I failed, I cannot deny
But the price they charge for feedstuff, sir, it’s cheaper to let them die

Now here’s a little problem, been figurin’ on it, too
If you can solve the answer I’ll be much obliged to you
Now maw is just a little thing, weighs 90 pounds, I guess
Why does it take a bale of cotton to buy maw just one dress?

And those fellows in your office send literature and fuss
If they had to follow a plow all day, they’d holler just like us
Cause literature ain’t what we need, that’s one expense to stop
The thing us farmers really need is a market for our crop

And everybody gives advice, but I wish that they would stop
Advice don’t help, what we really need is a market for our crop
We all can figure but until the market problems met
No matter how we figure, we’re all abloat upset

So subtract it or divide it, figures never lie
Add it up or multiply it, figures never lie
We all can figure but until the market problems met
No matter how we figure, we’re all abloat upset

That’s all I have to say, sir, my letter now I end
Sincerely now I remain, sir, respectfully, your friend