corn Well the poor old dirt farmer, he only grows stone He grows them on down till they're big enough to roll He rolls them on down to the taxman in town He rolls them on down Now the poor old dirt farmer, he's left all alone His wife and his children they packed up and gone Packed up and gone, he's left all alone They packed up and gone Well the poor old dirt farmer, how bad he must feel He fell off his tractor up under the wheel And now his head, shaped like a tread But he ain't quite dea (allcountrytabs.com)
