Brewster's Farm Lyrics - Porter Wagoner

BREWSTER'S FARM 

Writer Damon Black 

WHO'S GONNA HOE THE COTTON, WHO'S GONNA CUT THE CANE WHEN THE CREEK GOES DRY NEXT SUMMER, WHO'S GONNA PRAY FOR RAIN WHO'LL FEAR THE COLD WIND COMIN', THEN WEATHER OUT THE STORM WHEN THE AUCTIONEER CRIES HOW MUCH WILL YOU GIVE FOR BREWSTER'S FARM WHO'LL WAKE TO THE CROWING OF THAT OLD RHODE ISLAND RED THAT SITS OUT ON THE GATEPOST TO GET BREWSTER OUT OF BED WHO'LL SING THE SONGS OF DAVID IN CHURCH ON SUNDAY MORN WHOSE NAME WILL GRACE THE MAILBOX THAT NOW READS BREWSTER'S FARM IN WASHINGTON THEY STAND AND SAY THE FARMERS NEED A HAND BUT THE ONES THAT'S SELLING BREWSTER'S FARM ALL WORK FOR UNCLE SAM SMOOTH TALKING POLITICIANS THAT WINE AND DINE AND CHARM THEN TURN THEIR BACK AND WALK AWAY FROM THE SALE OF BREWSTER'S FARM NOW WE CAN'T FAULT HIS FAILURE CAUSE HE WORKED AND NEVER STOPPED IT JUST COST HIM MORE TO PLANT HIS SEED THAN HE GOT FOR HIS CROP AND THE PROFITS HE HAD COUNTED ON ALL WENT TO COUNTRIES FOREIGN IT WAS A SHADY DEAL BUT IT WASN'T MADE IN THE SHADE OF BREWSTER'S FARM SO TELL ME WHO'S GONNA HOE THE COTTON, WHO'S GONNA CUT THE CANE WHEN THE CREEK GOES DRY NEXT SUMMER, WHO'S GONNA PRAY FOR RAIN WHO'LL FEAR THE COLD WIND COMIN', THEN WEATHER OUT THE STORM WHEN THE AUCTIONEER CRIES HOW MUCH WILL YOU GIVE FOR BREWSTER'S FARM