The price of feed is high,
The cowman shakes his weary head,
And looks up to the sky,
He prays he'll make another year,
Altho he don't know how,
The bank won't loan no money,
On one more head of cow,
It's been a way of life for him,
This family operation,
He hoped that he could make it thru,
Just one more generation,
He'd seen it when the years were good,
And he'd managed things just right,
But now, no matter where he turns,
It's more and more a fight,
He wonders, should I sell it?
Or just dig my heels in,
He knows he came out good before,
But his patience is runnin' thin,
There's government regulations,
They change it every day,
Why, there's things he can't do on his own damn place,
At least that's what they say,
Then there's all these big investors,
That's buyin' up the land,
They're makin' bird preserves and such,
Now isn't that just grand!
Hell, most of his neighbors sold and left,
or lost it and went belly up,
"What should I do?" he wonders,
As he takes a sip from his cup,
He's never quit before,
Why should he do it now?
Even tho prices are up,
Except of course for cows,
Why can't the cowman take a stand?
It's time to change this mess,
It's time he tells 'em just how he feels,
Instead of bein' depressed,
Stand up, by god, it's time they knew,
What they're doin' isn't right,
If they think they're gonna get this place!
It won't be without a fight . . .
© 1996 T. J. Casey
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.