The fence in the back forty is fallen,
badly in need of repair–
the older posts are rotten,
the newer ones stripped bare

the barbed wire is rusty,
broken in places, I swear–
nothing to keep the cattle contained,
or coyotes out of there

boss man ain’t noticed it yet–
I know he’ll be mad as hell–
and I’m the man he’ll yell at,
maybe lay me off a spell

but now I gotta tell him,
ride out, and show him the posts–
praying he will understand
even fences give up the ghost