Watch the field behind the plow, turn to straight dark rows
Feel the trickle in your clothes, blow the dustcake from your nose
Hear the tractor's steady roar, oh you can't stop now
There's a quarter section more or less to go
And it figures that the rain keeps it's own sweet time
You can watch it come for miles, but you guess you've got a while
So ease the throttle out a hair, every rod's a gain
There's victory in every quarter mile
Poor old Kuzyk down the road
The heartache, hail, and hoppers brought him down
He gave it up and went to town
*
Took a heart attack and died at forty-two
You could see it coming on, 'cause he worked as hard as you
In an hour, maybe more, you'll be wet clear through
The air is cooler now, pull your hat brim further down
And watch the field behind the plow turn to straight dark rows
Put a-nother season's promise in the ground
And if the harvest's any good
The money might just cover all the loans
You've mortgaged all you own
Buy the kids a winter coat
Take the wife back east for Christmas if you can
All summer she hangs on, when you're so tied to the land
For the good times come and go, but at least there's rain
So this won't be barren ground, when Sep-tember rolls a-round
And watch the field behind the plow, turn to straight dark rows
Put a-nother season's promise in the ground