Down on the farm
by Steven Clotzman

The cow's got no milk
and the buzzards are flyin',
and down on the farm
we are crying those tears.
'Cause soon they will come
and without even tryin'
make claim to this land
we've been working for years.

Look away, my innocent child,
'cause with the papers in hand,
they're coming our way.
Look away, for after a while
when they get to our door,
they'll take all but our name.

Well, there once was a time
when they'd paid me to not grow,
or to take out my tractor
and plow under my fields,
while people with nothing
were starving, I know,
though I never thought of it then,
now I know how they feel.

Look away, it's a terrible sight,
with the papers in hand,
they're coming our way.
Look away, it may not seem right
but when they get to our door,
they'll take all but our name.

Now, some say the banks,
they care for your money
and as you get it, they take it
right out from your hands.
But i never could compete
with the milk and the honey
of the big corporate farms
that own most of the land.

Look away, you never asked for this sorrow,
but with the papers in hand,
they're coming our way.
Look away, but pray for tomorrow
'cause when they get to our door,
they'll take all but our name.

When I was a young boy
my father, he told me
to always trust in the nation
and work proud with your hands.
But the banks and the government,
they just bought me and sold me,
And how it ever could happen,
Lord I don’t understand.

Look away, my forgotten son,
with the papers in hand,
they're coming our way.
Look away, it was nothing you've done,
but when they get to our down,
they'll take all but our name.

Look away from the thing, it's so painful,
'cause with the papers in hand,
they're coming our way.
Look away, it's just so damn disdainful,
for when they get to our door,
they'll take all but our name.




© 1987 Steven Clotzman - all rights reserved