There's a little envelope on the table unopened
|
He already knows what it says
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He's known it for years
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Still his hands shook with fear
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When he picked it up in town yesterday
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It ain't like it seems
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You can't run a farm on dreams
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Still he thought they might let him carry on
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Carry on 'till the dream is even gone
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And he'd go out and plough
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But the tractor's broken down
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The day is almost spent, anyway
|
He pours himself a drink
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Sets on the porch to think
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Whatever are the neighbours going to say
|
Drinking don't take the place
|
The banker does with an empty face
|
He tells you 'bout a job up the road
|
Leave the keys in the mailbox when you go
|
There's a patch on the north side
|
It's early and it's dry
|
It's probably the best there is around
|
But when they sell it off
|
They won't even bring it up
|
Hell, who cares anymore about the ground
|
Some sour face city kid's lawyer puts in the bid
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For a run down, tax shelter hobby farm
|
Who's to blame anybody, anymore
|
And he'd go out and plough
|
But the tractor's broken down
|
The day is almost spent, anyway
|
He pours himself a drink
|
Sets on the porch to think
|
Whatever are the neighbours going to say
|
Drinking don't take the place
|
The banker does with an empty face
|
He tells you 'bout a job up the road
|
Leave the keys in the mailbox when you go
|
It's a good thing she ain't here
|
To see the bitter tears
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Spill down his coveralls on to the floor
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It's a good thing she ain't alive
|
To see how they've taken his pride
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And turned it like a crop beneath the soil
|
God bless this house the kitchen says
|
And even when the bills aren't paid
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Be thankful for the things that you have
|
Even just the shirts on your backs
|
And he'd go out and plough
|
But the tractor's broken down
|
The day is almost spent, anyway
|
He pours himself a drink
|
Sets on the porch to think
|
Whatever are the neighbours going to say
|
Drinking don't take the place
|
The banker does with an empty face
|
He tells you 'bout a job up the road
|
Leave the keys in the mailbox when you go
|
Leave the keys in the mailbox when you go
|
|
-----------------
|
Go Out And Plough
|
| Fred Eaglesmith |
