James Mcmurtry - Six-Year Drought

I guess you had your reasons


For the way you used to be


Don’t why I couldn’t please you


You just never had much faith in me


There’s fine dust in the tire ruts now


Along the old feed road


They’re workin’ on a six year drought


Just so you know 





I can pull my weightI can hold my own


I can sling that blade all summer long


‘Til the thistles fall And the pasture’s clear


And the work’s all done for another year


I can hold my own 





The world was like a distant storm


I could feel it on the breeze


But it made so little difference here


Just a whisper in the trees


Mending fence for room and board


Was mostly all I’d done


For I was still a prisoner here


In 1961 





The sucker rod on the windmill creaks


Now and then you hear a car


There’s thunderheads across the southern sky


But they won’t get this far


There’s red ants by the graveyard gate


They’re nearly all that moves 


And they carry on despite this heat


I bet you’d tell me what that proves


There’s fine dust in the tire ruts now


The creeks no longer run


But I am just a visitor here


The drought won’t hurt me none






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