I’m the (D)son of a third gen er a tion farm er.

I’ve been (G7)mar ried ten years to the farm er’s daugh ter.

I’m a (A)God fear in’, hard work in’ com bine driv er, hog gin’ up the road on my p p p p plow er, chug ga lug ga lug gin’ five miles an hour

on my In ter na tion al (D)Har vest er.

Three miles of cars lay in’ on their horns,

fall in’ on deaf ears of corn,

lined (G7)up be hind me like a big pa rade

of (A)late to work road rage jerks, shout in’ ob scene words, flip pin’ me the bird.

Well, you may be on the state paved road,

but that black top runs through my pay load.

Ex (G7)cuse me for try’n’ to do my job, but this year ain’t been no bump er crop.

If you don’t (A)like the way I’m driv in’, get back on the In ter state.

Oth er (G7)wise, sit tight and be nice and quit your honk in’ at me that way.

’Cause I’m the (D)son of a third gen er a tion farm er.

I’ve been (G7)mar ried ten years to the farm er’s daugh ter.

I got (D)two boys in the coun ty 4 H, I’m a life time spon sor of the F.

F.

A., hey.

That’s a what I make, I make a lot of hay for a lit tle pay.

But I’m proud to say I’m a (A)God fear in’, hard work in’ com bine driv er, hog gin’ up the road on my p p p p plow er, chug ga lug ga lug gin’ five miles an hour

on my In ter na tion al (D)Har vest er.

Well, I (D)know you got your own dead lines,

but cuss in’ me won’t save you no time, hoss.

This (A)big wheeled, wide load ain’t go in’ an y fast er, so just (G7)smile and wave and tip your hat to the man up on the trac tor.

’Cause I’m the (D)Har vest er.

I’m a (A)God fear in’, hard work in’ com bine driv er, hog gin’ up the road on my p p p p (G)plow er, (A)chug ga lug ga lug gin’ five miles an hour

on my In ter na tion al (D)Har vest er.