After I missed a few payments, they started circlin’. Never off the phone…callin’ at the farm… sendin’ letters.
Life was goin’ to hell in a handcart… hens wouldn’t lay, cows dried up, the bull looked like he was gettin’ in touch with his feminine side. And the wife…well, she was givin’ me hell, black looks and not much else.
And then he swooped… the bank manager.
Stripped me bare, took the wife, the farm, the stock. Only thing he left me was the beat-up truck, and that only so’s I’d leave quick.
Good men, bankers.
Won’t hear a word said against ‘em.