The following poem was birthed nearly 20 years ago, but in light of the current nutso political circus, it still resonates loud, clear and worried. This version bemoans the drought years and, while this season, we’ve had rain (so much so, it’s hard to get hay baled before it rots), the daily challenge of growing food and fiber for the nation (including vegans and vegetarians) is not a walk in the park — tra-la.
Worried Farmer/Rancher Talking Blues (rap style)
Well it didn’t rain today, and it didn’t last night,
The grass is turning brittle and the pastures look a fright,
The springs in the hills are flowing pretty slow,
When will it rain? Nobody knows.
Well, it got so hot, the hens quit layin’,
Now they just sit around a-cluckin’ and a-prayin’,
And all of the bugs are hatching again,
Some of ‘em act like they’re real old friends.
And the dogs and the cats are lyin’ all around,
With their tongues hangin’ out and draggin’ on the ground,
If they see a critter movin’, and it’s goin’ real fast —
It’s too hot to chase, they just let it pass.
The pumps belch mud, and the streams go dry,
And the sun beats down and skin begins to fry,
And the wind stirs dirt all across the land,
And the dust gets thicker than snooze in a can.
Ranchers wean early, so the cows eat less,
Oh, when will it rain? Nobody can guess.
Ranchers sell down, no grass on the ground,
And not much hay anywhere around.
If you want to farm or ranch, here’s what to do,
Borrow money from your banker, he likes to worry, too,
Then sweat in the heat while you’re waiting for rain,
Misery’s part of the farm/ranch game.
A rancher’s creed says stick like glue,
Wear out your life like an old worn shoe,
You’ll know for sure when you fuss and stew,
You’ve got those worried farm/rancher blues. ❖
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