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Michael Coy

of

Ronda, Malaga, Spain

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Dustbowl Breakdown

by

Michael Coy

I got wed in twenty-two.
Took this place with mortgage, new.

Built a fence around my land,
plowed that grass with my own bare hands.

Planted collards, corn and beans.
Prettiest spread you ever seen.

Rain donít come, it leaves you dry,
Underneath that big old sky.

Got no river, ainít no rain,
lonely here on the great dry plain.

Natureís older, biggerín me.
You canít cheat her, no sirree.

Twenty acres turned to dust,
my new tractor, gathering rust.

Wind blew down from Cimarron there,
big black dirt all in the air.

Ainít no beans or collards now,
ainít no nothing left to plow.

Heading out for Monterrey,
nothing here to make us stay.

Windmill, tractor, homestead, plow:
wind and dust can have Ďem now.