Ballad of Tractor Joe

His tractor is green and he drives it too fast
For he knows the summer is not gonna last
There’s crops to be brung in from fields that are steep
And he’s hardly a moment to shit or to sleep

Come winter, come summer, come autumn or spring
The roads are so narrow and the tractor is king

A tractor of yellow drags machinery wide
No room to pass him he touches the sides
And he’ll never pull in and he’ll never give way
Because he’s on his phone and there’s plenty to say

Come winter, come summer, com...