Cows don't know it's Christmas
or Easter – or New Year's.
There ain't no way for a holiday
with a pen of hungry steers.
While city dads are haulin' kids
for a night of treats and tricks,
The feedyard dad is on his horse.
he's out there pullin' sicks.
Country moms take the kids to church,
fix dinner, head to the field.
They're helpin' dads to harvest corn
out bringing in the yield.
Grain gets ripe on Sunday.
Alfafa bales at night.
Profit margins run so thin,
they've got to do it right.
Heifers calve at three a.m.
when sleepin' feels just right.
A rancher's out there watchin'
with a pickup parkin' light.
Blizzards don't take holidays
nor do folks who tend the stock.
They just hump up and face it
when the pond's froze like a rock.
Punchin' a time clock's not the way
it's done on farm and ranch.
You do those jobs when you have to.
May not be another chance.
These folks are not complainin'
and they sure don't brag and gloat.
They're just raisin' families
and tryin' to pay the note.
So when you're eatin' Christmas dinner
in a joyous festive mood,
just pause right there and say a prayer
for the folks who grow our food.