The End of the End of the Farm
Performed by Bale Harrison & The Texas Field Hands
The End of the End of the Farm – Music and Lyrics by Alan Nafzger
(Verse 1)
Well, the spiders hold meetings in the empty barn,
The scarecrow’s job hunting, got to keep up the charm.
Even the sheep wear sweaters, ’cause wool’s gone out of style,
And the hay’s gone high-tech, just to pass the time a while.
(Chorus)
It’s the end of the end of the farm, they say,
Where the chickens vacation and the cows network for hay.
Even the tractor dreams of beaches far and wide,
It’s the last laugh on the last acre, our bumpy, joyous ride.
(Verse 2)
The frogs in the pond, well, they’re mixin’ up the scene,
With singles nights and disco lights, a lily pad love machine.
My crop circles didn’t work, just drew a squirrel rave,
Now I’m farming dust bunnies, the only crop brave.
(Chorus)
It’s the end of the end of the farm, no lie,
Where scarecrows learn to craft and the dust bunnies fly.
Even the chickens send postcards from their tropical spree,
It’s the last laugh on the last acre, just you wait and see.
(Bridge)
I thought about golf, where the corn used to sway,
Might as well swing at something, if the crops don’t pay.
From Airbnb to tractors dreaming of the sun,
Our farm’s got stories, and each one’s a home run.
(Verse 3)
So if you hear a tractor sigh or see a sheep dress fine,
Just know it’s farm life at the whim of Father Time.
We might be winding down, but we’re going out with flair,
Laughing at our own misfortune, rich in fresh country air.
(Chorus)
It’s the end of the end of the farm, alright,
But we’re laughing all the way, from morning till night.
It’s a quirky little tale of a farm past its prime,
The last laugh on the last acre, and we’re still feeling fine.
The End of the End of the Farm
Alan Nafzger (2023)
The spiders hold meetings in the barn, long abandoned,
The scarecrow’s job hunting, with charm now demanded.
Even the sheep wear sweaters, wool’s out of style,
And the hay’s gone high-tech, passing time with a smile.
It’s the end of the end of the farm, they say,
Where chickens vacation and cows network for hay.
Even the tractor dreams of beaches so wide,
The last laugh on the last acre, our joyous ride.
The frogs by the pond have mixed up the scene,
With disco lights glowing, it’s a lily pad dream.
My crop circles flopped, drew squirrels to rave,
Now I’m farming dust bunnies, the bravest to save.
It’s the end of the end of the farm, no lie,
Where scarecrows do crafts and dust bunnies fly.
The chickens send postcards from a tropical spree,
The last laugh on the last acre, just you wait and see.
I thought about golf where the corn used to sway,
Might as well swing when the crops won’t pay.
From Airbnb rentals to tractors in the sun,
Our farm’s got stories, and each one’s fun.
So if you hear a tractor sigh or see a sheep dressed fine,
Know it’s just farm life, bending to time.
We’re winding down, but we’re going out with flair,
Laughing at misfortune, rich in fresh country air.
It’s the end of the end of the farm, alright,
But we’re laughing through it, from morning till night.
A quirky tale of a farm past its prime,
The last laugh on the last acre—still feeling fine.
