THE SWEAT BELONGS
            TO ME

The banker owns this ranch of mine...
but all the misery,
and pain and sweat that goes with it-
well, that belongs t' me.
While I might hold the title,
until it's clear and free-
the banker owns the ranch, the stock
and my machinery.
He makes it clear who owns it
when I'm late repaying loans.
While I might own the title,
the rest the banker owns.

Y' take a loan out on your place
when profit's t' be had-
but sooner, more than later,
the economy turns bad.
Recessions and Depressions
always hit the farmers  first;
and farmers are the first t' pay
when the bubbles burst.
My grandpa used t' tell me,
"Avoid the mortgage trap...
Y' go t' bed with bankers,
y' end up with the clap."

"Expand...buy new equipment...
y ' gotta modernize..."
That's what the Big Boys had t' say.
I thought that they were wise.
And now the banker owns my ranch
and my machinery;
but all the work that goes with them,
well, that belongs t' me.
While I might hold the title,
until it's clear and free-
the banker owns this ranch of mine....
the sweat belong t' me.

                      Bette Wolf Duncan
                        copyright2000

MAD DOG MEAN 

Mad dog mean, the times are....
and it just turned snarlin' rough.
It happened just awhile ago.
They carted off my stuff.
This ranch has been my families
for near a hundred years.
The bank's a gonna auction it.
Too bad they can't sell tears.
If only they could sell my tears,
there'd be enough t' pay
back taxes and delinquent loans
and wipe this grief away.

They loaded Grandma's poster bed,
her chiffonier and such.
The chances are that none a' it
will bring too awful much.
The times are mean and ugly....
this day's a snarlin' bitch.
If only I was someone else.
If only I was rich .
The fact is, I ain't none a' that.
I'm just a rancher's wife
who's never known or wanted
another way of life.

If only I could melt away
and join the auction crowd,
and bid on Grandma's poster bed,
and walk with head unbowed.
Great Grandma gave the bed t' her
when she was just a bride.
I watched my Grandma make the bed;
then polish it with pride.
I've known a lot of hard times-
but this sure beats all I've seen.
The times have sunk their teeth in me.
It just turned mad dog mean.

TOM AND ME
  
All I ever wanted was
t' ranch on Grandpa's place.
It's hard for me acceptin'
that with Tom, that ain't the case.
Tom, he'll be th' last one
t' bear our family name.
I never could quite understand....
he didn't feel the same.
With me and those before me,
we were fixtures on this land.
With Tom, the ranch means nothin'
but some greenbacks in our hand.
Tom, he wanted somethin' else....
a different life and place.
And Tom was filled with memories
that time did not erase.

He watched while Banion lost his ranch
and everything he owned.
It didn't bring enough t' pay
the funds th' bank had loaned.
Recession ate his equity
and left him with a debt
beyond what he could hope t' pay
with prices he could get.
And one day Banion shot himself.....
and Tom could not forget.
T' make it ranchin' nowadays
takes more than work and sweat.

Then Tom went off t' college;
and he got himself a job.
He's makin' lots a' money
and hobnobbin' like a snob.
I used t' think I'd never sell.
My sweat's in every clod;
in every furrow on this land,
my life's plowed in the sod.

We always made a livin'-
though I can't say that we thrived.
But still, when others bellied up,
Tom and me survived.
But Tom would often urge me
t' blaze some brand new trail;
and come the next inflation,
t' list the ranch for sale.

Now lately, I have wondered;
maybe Tom is right.
This gettin' old is somethin'
that is mighty hard t' fight.
My back and joints are tellin' me
that this time I can't win.
There comes a time for givin up-
a time for givin' in.