The blown Perkins V8 engine from the third verse

The Perkins V8 from a 760 that was brought out of retirement

Copyright © 2003 | Aaron Traffas (BMI)

D

D
I busted my knuckles on the side of my combine,
		  Bm	            A		D
Massey Fergueson broken down again.
I  took it out on that bearing with a nine pound sledge
	Bm	    A		D
and the force of a south Kansas wind.
	G
I can hear the straw popping and drying in the sun.
	D		    F#m
It'll be ready to go before long.
G
When the dew lets up I'll climb right on up
 	A
in the cab where I belong.

		G	  A	   D
I’m cutting wheat on the old home place
	    A
where the bushels keep on rollin’ in.
 	   G	   A	      D
Another round on a red dirt farm,
A
I’m steering straight into the wind.
	  Bm
I'm going round and round utill the bin gets full,
F#m
back and forth with the engine whine,
Bm
terrace and corner—keep that line—

       G  A	    D
livin 24 feet at a time.

I order up another thermos of coffee
	to keep my eyes from shutting down.
Caffeine and nicotine: the only diet for me
	as the shadows grow long on the ground.
The dirt red sun looks as tired as I,
	the Gyp Hills put it to sleep.
I turn on my lights and throw in a chew
	and put the header back into the wheat.

I put a hole in the block of my big red combine
	in the summer of 2003.
As I walked to the truck I broke down and cried,
	that machine was like a brother to me.
My friends said go green and buy a John Deere;
	I told them to go straight to hell.
Come June the next year my 860 and me
	came pulling back in the field.