There was a little creek,
That ran thru the old Edwards place
I used to pass it every week
But now it is barely a trace
Navy beans, little democrats, my dad called them
Would soak all day in a pot of that creek water
They were the main course
Of my grandparents supper
That little creek is now grown over
Corporate farmers plowed it shut
They got three more feet for their rovers
Sealed shut, our memories to satisfy their glut
But I can still picture it
Like it was when my dad was a lad
With his little wooden bucket
Drawing water for their supper, how glad
I can still see where it was,
When I drive by the old place
Hidden in the grassy waterway
Ignoring the farm tractors noisy buzz
Yes, they boiled their navy (D beans)
Little democrats is what my dad called them
In that clear, clean creek water
The creek that was
No creek there no more