The Farmer’s Filth

I get outside before the dew dries, sink my feet in the friable tilth.

The Farmer’s Filth

First thing, I put on my muck boots
and attach suspenders to my jeans.
Annie fries me some bacon and eggs
and dumps in the pot a can of beans.

I get outside before the dew dries,
sink my feet in the friable tilth.
As sure as the mourning dove cries,
ain’t no shame in the farmer’s filth.

I drive my tractor into the yoke
till up in rows god’s good ground.
Those hungry Cattle Egrets be waiting.
They follow the tractor all around.

I get outside before the dew dries,
sink my feet in the friable tilth.
As sure as the mourning dove cries,
ain’t no shame in the farmer’s filth.

Spring ain’t less I grab a handful
my nose fills with geosmin, so sweet
of this land risin’ up every day
good like a breeze in the summer heat.

I get outside before the dew dries,
sink my feet in the friable tilth.
As sure as the mourning dove cries,
ain’t no shame in the farmer’s filth.