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Ry Cooder - Taxes on the farmer feeds us all

Taxes on the farmer feeds us all

He worked through spring and winter,
through summer and through fall.
But the mortgage workes the hardest
and the steadiest of us all.

He workes on nights and sundays,
he workes each holiday.
Settled down among us
and he never went away.

The farmer comes to town with his wagon broken down.
The farmer is the man who feeds us all.
If you only look and see I know you will agree,
that the farmer is the man who feeds us all.

The farmer is the man, the farmer is the man.
He buys on his credit until fall.
Then they take him by his hand
and they led him from his land
and the merchant is the man who gets it all.

The farmer is the man, the farmer is the man.
He lives on his credit until fall
with his interest rates so high:
it's a wonder he don't die.
But the taxes on the farmer feeds us all.

Well, the banker says he's broke
and the merchant stops and smoke.
But they forget that it's the farmer that feeds them all.
It would put them to the test
if the farmer took a rest
and they'd know that is's the farmer that feeds them all.

The farmer is the man, the farmer is the man.
Lives on his credit until fall.
Well, his pants are wearing thin;
his condition, it's a sin.
'Cause the taxes on the farmer feeds us all.


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