Wettin' it down, boss    Wet it down    Wipin' it off, boss    Wipe it off.    Doin' ten to twenty hard    Swingin' twelve pounds in the yard    Every day    Every day.    I came in with a group of twenty    There ain't left but half as many    In the clay    In the clay.    Long line rider, turn away.       There's a farm in Arkansas    Got some secrets in its floor    In decay    In decay.    You can tell where they're at    Nothin' grows, the ground is flat    Where they lay    Where they lay.    Long line rider, turn away.       All the records show so clear    Not a single man was here    Anyway    Anyway.    That's the tale the warden tells    As he counts his empty shells    By the day    By the day.    Hey, long line rider, turn away.       Somone screams investigate    'scuse me sir it's a little late    Let us pray    Let us pray.    This kinda thing can't happen here    'specially not in an election year    Outta my way    Outta my way.    Hey, long line rider, turn away.       There's a funny taste in the air    Big bulldozers everywhere    Diggin' clay    Turnin' clay.    And the ground coughs up some roots    Wearin' denim shirts and boots    Haul 'em away    Haul 'em away.    Hey, long line rider, turn away.       Well I heard a brother moan    Why they plowin' up my home    In this way    In this way.    I said, buddy, shake your gloom    They're just here to make more room    In the clay.    U.S.A