He’s spent sixty years on this dry dusty prairie
Watching seasons come and go
Praying for rain when he needed it, Lord
And watching the old West Wind blow
Watching the old West Wind blow.
Now he’s getting old and he’s feeling the work
Like he never did feel it before
But these bones don’t know from sitting about,
Being idle just makes a man sore
Being idle just makes a man sore.
Now the wind takes the seed
And the banks take the land,
And there’s nothing left
For a working man.
His kids are all gone for the work in the city,
There’s nothing here they want to do.
And they’re saying “Hey Dad, sell the farm while you can,
There’s a lot in the city for you.”
There’s a lot in the city for you.
Well maybe that’s so, and maybe that ain’t,
Things are different when you’re an old man.
And your heart’s on it's last thumping old days,
Wants to spend them out on the land.
Wants to die out on the land.