SONG OF THE IRON MEN


| September/October 1954



R. D. 1, Kearney, Missouri

He toils and moils from sun to sun; he never knows when work is done; his schedule keeps him on the run, this lazy farmer.

He has no time to hunt or fish, it is in vain for him to wish, to travel slower than a S-W-I-S-H, this pokey farmer.

Just wait 'til he stops working hard, plays golf, and has a Union card: the world will then with awe regard, this low-down farmer. E. F.