The Death of the West
By Mike McNeil ©1998
I love this land the young man said
They had moved out west now that the south was dead
The carpetbaggers had sealed their fate
They got out before it was too late
Paper money comes and goes, with land to work you're never poor
I love this land the young man said
Wall Street had crashed, the economy was dead
The great depression had sealed their fate
Now the nation could only wait
Paper money comes and goes, with land to work you're never poor
I love this land the young man said
Back from the war, most of his friends dead
World War Two had sealed their fate
Now he was home to a country so great
Paper money comes and goes, with land to work you're never poor
I'll sell this land the young man said
I can do this now that my father's dead
Greed and developers had sealed his fate
He found out after it was too late
Paper money comes and goes, with land to work, you're never poor.