Dry Branch Fire Squad The Honest Farmer
Honest Farmer or Boll Weevil
I saw an honest farmer,
His back was bending low,
Hoeing in the cotton,
As far as he could go.
He piled it up in rail pens
Until the merchant came.
That he might attach his cotton
Sohe might pay their claim.
Oh, goodbye, boll weevil,
You know you've ruint my home.
You know you've got my cotton
And the birds done got my corn,
I saw him in the summer,
His back was against the tree,
His poor old head was aching
It rested on his knee
I'll be compelled to go home
or surely I will die.
My head has commenced to aching
I heerd the farmer cry
Oh, goodbye, boll weevil,
You know you've ruint my home.
You know you've got my cotton
And the birds done got my corn,
I've toiled all my lifetime,
And still I find I'm poor.
Without an education,
My children's left their door.
They've left their dear old Daddy
This whole wide world to roam,
I guess they know they love him
And wait for them at home.
It's pans of biscuits,
Bowls of gravy
Pans of biscuits
We shall have.
His footsteps they grew weaker
As he walked up the hill.
And reached his little cabin
And sat upon the sill.
His wife she knelt beside him.
Her hair'd all now turned gray.
Trust now in the Savior.
We'll find a home some day.
It's pans of biscuits,
Bowls of gravy
Pans of biscuits
We shall have.
Oh, goodbye, boll weevil,
For you know you've ruirnt my home.
You know you've got my cotton
And the birds done got my corn,
