The brew you drink comes from the grain
That grows upon our grassy plain
Consider as you quench your thirst
A farmer had to grow it first

This farm was worked by Grandpa Pete
Fields of barley, oats and wheat
Despite the drought, the pests, the hail
Throughout it all he still prevailed

Across the grid my neighbour Ray
Is checking out his stand of hay
Conditions have been great to grow it
But it's too wet for him to mow it

This summer's weather has been strange
I'm told it's due to climate change
For almost every afternoon
We hear the sound of thunder's boom

And then comes rain in angry splashes
Accompanied by lightening's flashes
The dogs come scratching at the door
So skittish at this angry roar

I look down at my baby daughter
Then at my wheat field, under water
What 's a single Mom to do
Her livelihood beneath a slough?

But still I have my Grandpa's gene's
I will succeed, I'll find the means
I'll make my way at any price
Next year I'll seed that slough to rice!

So while you take your summer's rest
Remember farmers in the west
Who grow the grain that makes the bread
That helps you keep your family fed