[Hook: Whooping banjo-rock male lead, whooping, full gallop] Beat the hail to the last row Sky going green and the wind blowing low Six hundred acres and the clock moving slow Beat the hail to the last row [Verse 1: Whooping banjo-rock male lead, whooping, early light] Radio said sundown, golf-ball size Coming off the mountains with the devil in its eyes Neighbors cut theirs last week and they're sitting in the shade Mine still standing gold, every head of it made Luis at the grain cart with a thermos and a grin Said boss, we either beat it or we watch it all go in Fired up the old combine and she coughed like a mule First light on the header and we running on fuel [Hook: Whooping banjo-rock male lead, whooping, full gallop] Beat the hail to the last row Sky going green and the wind blowing low Six hundred acres and the clock moving slow Beat the hail to the last row [Verse 2: Whooping banjo-rock male lead, whooping, high noon] Noon and no lunch, eat a sandwich at the wheel Cart running full, Luis running on a reel Truck to the elevator, truck coming back Dust on the windshield and the wheat going black Wind turned around about a quarter to four Smelled like a penny and a slamming screen door Sky in the west turned the color of a bruise And I said, old girl, we got nothing to lose [Hook: Whooping banjo-rock male lead, whooping, full gallop] Beat the hail to the last row Sky going green and the wind blowing low Six hundred acres and the clock moving slow Beat the hail to the last row [Bridge: Whooping banjo-rock male lead, hail on the tin, one stone then the storm] One on the shed Two on the hood Ten on the tin Now it's coming for good [Verse 3: Whooping banjo-rock male lead, whooping, the finish] Last row standing when the thunder rolled through Header took it down and the cart caught it too First stone bounced on the hood of the truck Luis threw his hat up and yelled, what luck Hail came down like a freight train of rocks Beating on the stubble and the empty field box Me and Luis in the cab with the lights turned on Watching all that hail coming down on a field that's done Six hundred acres in the bin and the bank Luis on the horn and the dog on the tank Storm rolled east with its tail tucked in And I whooped out the window like a kid with a win [Final Hook: Whooping banjo-rock male lead, whooping, full gallop, victory] Beat the hail to the last row Sky going green and the wind blowing low Six hundred acres and the clock moving slow Beat the hail to the last row [End]
