The Farmer Poem by BRUCE MARTONE

I AM THE LAST AMERICAN FARMER
THAT THE BANK HASN'T TAKEN AWAY MY FARM
BECAUSE I ALWAYS MEET MY COST
WITH AN OPEN ARM
BECAUSE MY CROPS STILL MAKE ME MONEY
ENOUGH TO GET BY WEEK AFTER WEEK
YEAR AFTER YEAR
EVEN THE STRUGGLING FARMERS
TRY TO PEAK ON WHAT IS MY TRICK
UNTIL THAT STORM
WHERE THE WIND WAS BLOWING
MY SCARCE CROW ACROSS THE YARD
AND THE RAIN WAS COMING DOWN HARD
AND I COULDN'T SEE WHERE I WAS GOING
SO MY SCARCE CROW WAS ON HIS OWN
ALONG WITH MY CROPS
TILL THE STORM LET UP
AND THE WIND STOP BLOWING
WHICH IT DID
AND I FOUND WHERE THE SCARCE CROW HID
BUT I CAN'T SAY THE SAME FOR MY CROPS
THAT'S WHEN I STARTED TO CRY
BECAUSE I COULDN'T MEET THE COST
AND MY FUNDS WENT DRY
AND THE PRICE TO START OVER WAS TO HIGH
AND NOW I JOIN MY LOCAL FARMERS
ON THE UNEMPLOYMENT LINE