I seem to have lost my patience   Waiting for the clouds of dust the custom cutters bring   The foreman called to say, he would be here any day   With his convoy of threshing machines      Now what would make a man make a promise he can't keep?   A custom cutter crew could clear this harvest in a week   While me on my John Deere would take more than a year   To lay down this harvest of winter wheat      Winter, winter wheat   The grain is groaning on the stem   When the custom cutter comes and the harvest is in   Perhaps I'll find my patience again      I allow as how I have my own frustrations   I was counting on this crop to lay my mortgage down   And I admit that there's a limit to my patience   But damn it all to hell, they should have been here by now      It's a hundred days preparing the fields   And it's a million seeds you sow and scare a thousand hungry crows   But when the harvest moon is in it takes just one cold rainy day   To watch it all get washed away