Counting on the break of day
for sun to keep the rain a bey
90 acres cut and dry
my right=hand man was by my side

Every field was raked and baled
while the sun above us sailed
sun-burnt backs and red-rimmed eyes
every bale was stacked inside.

Through summer's heat and summer's haze
silently we toiled the days away
a good man is hard to find, harder still to know his mind

I'd heard talk about a checkered past
a tragic play with a desperate cast
but I knew better than to heed
idle gossip from hayseeds

I cared not what he had done
a gambling man or a hired gun
he'd come to me a year before
proved to me his skill at every chore

As we bid farewell to August
the fateful harvest fast upon us
I knew something was wrong, he would not be with me long

My fondness for him was strong
like a brother he'd become
but when he begged my daughter's hand
a heat rose in me, I didn't understand

Angrily I asked him why?
was he not content to work by my side?
I claimed fraternity was ripe
with satisfactions not found in a bride

He stood his ground and asked again
would offer him my daughter's hand
my heart broke I filled with rage, I rushed upon him with my field rake

In the cornfield on that day
the day they took the pigs to slaughter
I struck that man in such a way
that he would never love my daughter

In the cornfield on that day
the day they took the pigs to slaughter
in my defense all I can say
he loved not me, he loved my daughter

A good man is hard to find
harder still to know his mind
a troubled man is easy to judge, when his hands are bathed in blood