A D Back in nineteen twenty-seven, E I had a little farm and I called that heaven. A D Well, the prices up and the rain come down, E and I hauled my crops all into town. A D I got the money, bought clothes and groceries, E A fed the kids, and raised a family. Rain quit and the wind got high, and the black old dust storm filled the sky. And I swapped my farm for a Ford machine, and I poured it full of this gas-o-line. And I started, rockin' an' a-rolling', over the mountains, out towards the old Peach Bowl. Way up yonder on a mountain road, I had a hot motor and a heavy load, Got- a-goin' pretty fast, there wasn't even stopping', a-bouncing up and down, like popcorn popping'. Had a breakdown, sort of a nervous breakdown of some kind, there was a feller there, a mechanic feller, said it was engine trouble. Way up yonder on a mountain curve, a way up yonder in the piney wood, I gave that rolling Ford a shove, was a-gonna coast as far as I could. Commence coasting, pickin' up speed, was a hairpin turn, I didn't make it. Man alive, I'm a-tellin' you, the fiddles and the guitars really flew. That Ford took off like a flying squirrel and it flew halfway around the world, scattered wives and children all over the side of that mountain. We got out to the West Coast broke, so dad-gum hungry I thought I'd croak, so I bummed up a spud or two, and my wife fixed up a tater stew. We poured the kids full of it, mighty thin stew, though, you could read a magazine right through it. Always have figured that if it'd been just a little bit thinner, some of these here politicians could of seen through it.