His cattle didn鈥檛 get a bid, they were fairly bloody poor,
What was he going to do? He couldn鈥檛 feed them anymore,
The dams were all but dry, hay was thirteen bucks a bale,
And last month鈥檚 talk of rain was just a fairytale,
His credit had run out, no chance to pay what鈥檚 owed,
Bad thoughts ran through his head as he drove down Gully Road.
鈥淕eez, great grandad bought the place back in 1898,
鈥淣ow I鈥檓 such a useless bastard, I鈥檒l have to shut the gate.
鈥淚 can鈥檛 feed my wife and kids, not like dad and those before,
鈥淐rikeys, Grandma kept it going while Pop fought in the war.鈥