| Dear Mr. Johnson, we’re sorry to inform you
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| Your request for a second loan has been refused
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| And the board of directors up in the city
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| Has instructed us to take the farm from you
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| We understand your problems
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| And wish that we could help you
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| But the fallin' price of wheat’s not our concern
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| And the cost of operation may well be risin'
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| But the fact is that you lose more than you earn
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| This saturday mornin' there will be an auction
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| Underneath a cold gray country sky
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| And while the rest of the nation is still sleepin'
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| They’ll be bidding America goodbye
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| And so Mr. Johnson let us say in conclusion
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| That we know your family’s worked that land for years
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| If we can be of assistance during your transition
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| Please don’t hesitate to call us here
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| This saturday mornin' there will be an auction
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| Underneath a cold gray country sky
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| And while the rest of the nation is still sleepin'
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| They’ll be bidding America goodbye
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| They’ll be bidding America goodbye, goodbye |