Shadows getting long don’t ya s’pose?

Don’t matter. Gotta keep her goin’. We wait too long to finish ‘er an there ain’t gonna be no point in tryin’ to sell ‘er. Okies ‘ll have beaten us to ‘em.

What’s the point ‘n tryin’ to sell ‘er at all then? Okies are workin’ for half the price and those owners are just sellin’ it for cheaper than we can. ‘F we’d a match their price we’d be outta here in second. Lands too ‘spensive to sell crop for that price. ‘F we’re to sell it for 20 can’t pay the land. Can’t pay the land we gonna’ work like those Okies. But we can’t sell it for more than that. Ain’t none gonna buy ‘er for 25. No sir jus’ can’t do it.

Don’t matter. We jus’ gotta keep on workin’. Work till ya can’t see no more. Jus’ gotta keep on workin’ till we can get out of here.. We’ll get ‘er ‘ventually.

The sun sank in the sky, drawing long dark shadows over all the West. Mountains faded into the horizon as the turmoil of the world came to rest for the night. The shadows covered the people in the field as they rushed to get the last of their crop for the day. The shadows forced the farmers inside, forced them to be done for the night. The shadow of night forced all manners of people to become one. Forced the worker and owner to rest in their home, whatever that may be. Forced the tenant farmers and the sharecroppers to be satisfied with the day’s work, even if deep down they weren’t. Forced the politicians and the policemen to lie down in their stone brick houses with great raging fires and think about what they did that day. Forced everyone to be the same. But come sunrise that uniformity would end. Once again the people would be divided into their cliques. Divided for no real reason other than the shadows.

Shadows getting long don’t ya s’pose?

So what? We gotta keep workin’. Gotta get in another bag of cotton. It’ll be enough to get another bag a bread for t’night. ‘F we don’t keep workin’ someone will. Better be us than them.

One more bag one less bag what do it matter? Barely a couple cents a bag. We ain’t living we barely even surivin’. A couple cents a bag, a couple bags a day. Don’t matter how much you pick it ain’t never gonna be enough. Pick too much and you too worn out to pick the next day. Don’t pick enough and you ain’t gonna eat that night. Pick just enough to eat and nothins ever gonna change. Can’t pick too much can’t pick too little. No sir jus’ can’t do it. 

Don’t matter. We jus’ gotta keep on workin’. Work till ya can’t see no more. Jus’ gotta keep on workin’ till we can get out of here. We’ll get ‘er ‘ventually.