You work the livestock crew on Sunday
I clean your stove while you change for the night
And I'd count the cowbirds and geldings and wise words you imparted
All your gentle understandings the FFA's gold branding's
And the days since the old racer died
I guess I'll go and feed Linda's horses
And hang two fresh buckets for the night
On your wall there hung dried white roses
And I'm proud of all you do and all you try
You're treasured more than rope and more than fly sheets
On old mares in the middle of July
And I look at you like young boys look at tractors
Like drunk folk look at drive-thru my kinfolk look at gardens
Charlene looked at the racer in his prime
I guess I'll go and feed Linda's horses
And hang two fresh buckets for the night
On your wall there hung dried white roses
And I'm proud of all you do and all you try
All your gentle understandings the FFA's gold branding's
And the days since the old racer died
