Plowboy Manifesto

PLOWBOY MANIFESTO
By Don Kenton Henry

I was born on a farm in northern Indiana
I’m a tractor ridin’ white boy way north of Texarkana
Flag and country come first, and this heah dirt
Don’t come and tell me how to vote, don’t tell me how to work
A fighter always fights, and a runner’s gonna run
Don’t come and mess with me, unless you bring your gun

Outta my face you milk toast city slicker
I’ll make you see, I’m a whole quicker
Than your slick talkin’ lawyer with his hand on his subpoena
He’s gonna leave without it when he steps in my arena
Now tell yo momma, that this one is the best one
You didn’t even know that you was messin’ with a vetran

Help those that are weak, keep plantin’ the seed
Of the freedom we know , of the words of our creed
I fight for what’s mine, I give sweat for my toil
Before this is over, I’ll give blood for this soil
Might don’t make right, but truth is never wrong
The facts speak for me, I’m a warrior with a song

You come on to my land, well you gotta a lot of sand
To talk of stealin’, to talk about takin’
What my family built, a hundred years they been a makin’
You say you represent the Feds, I see you dancin’ with the dead
Preachin’ Eminent Domain, you must be insane
I’ll show you how it’s done, you’ll take a bullet for my pain

Don’t come on my farm, don’t come on my land
You pushed me far enough, this is where I make my stand
First you bled me with your taxes, now come your regulations
You pegged me as a sucker, but I’m the backbone of this nation
You want my twelve year old boy to punch a time clock – and if that don’t beat all
You want him workin’ the fields, a carryin’ a parasol

Bad Dog Bo Duke will have your arm if you step into my barn
Don’t put one foot forward, I’ve sounded the alarm
Now lookie what’s a comin’ up out of the bog
Arnold ain’t just a pig – he’s a genuine attack Hog
I see you shakin’ and I would too
He’s 400 pounds of angry bacon and he’s a comin’ for you
Sooie, Arnold – get the guy in the suit

Now you’ve done it city boy, here come the troops
It seems your chickens have come home to roost
That there is my brothers –
Your kind won’t ever find you, you’ll be lost like all the others
Jeb and Bodine, they ain’t as nice as me
For you know it you’ll be swingin’ from a tree But sometimes you be lucky, just be happy Mister You didn’t have a chance to meet my baby sister Six foot three, she’s a barbed wire twister A Roller Derby Queen, a’ down in New Orleans – she’ll pop you like a blister No man has ever whipped her – hell – none’s ever even kissed her

We raise soy beans here, and the pigs are gonna stay
You ain’t puttin in no wind farm with the people’s pay
A government think tank, where once there was a barn
I say that is an ox, and you’re a moron
This here is straw, and that there’s grass
This is my boot, it’s a comin’ for yo ass

Hey there carpetbagger, we’re not takin’ that loss
Now you been around here, you know you’re talkin’ to the boss
So let me give it to you straight, get out through the gate
Leave while you can, this is the end o’ yo plan

Outta my face you milk toast city slicker
I’ll make you see, I’m a whole quicker
Than your slick talkin’ lawyer with his hand on his subpoena
He’s gonna leave without it when he steps in my arena
Now tell your momma, that this one is the best one
You didn’t even know that you was MESSIN’ . . . WITH . . . A . . . VETRAN!
Soooie!!!