The pump is all froze
And the horse is feet up
The grader has levelled the mailbox away
Winter is turning your blues eyes to grey
But the comfort remains that you know in the end
The jukebox sounds ever the same
By the snare's mute call
The old hound is swayed
But there's nothing much keeping the coyotes at bay
Time even scatters your heartaches they say
Your mate's on the dole
And the kid's in the pen
The scrapman has lured the MacCormick away
The trailer-park calls you, do not delay
The clapboard is peeling
And the roof has a flap
The sow has just landscaped your garden once more
Your fortune was long burned right onto the bar