Saskatchewan in 1881

Mr. Toronto man, go away from my door You've got my wheat and canola seed, you're askin' me for more Better fly 'fore I produce my .44 I'm just a prairie boy, never meant none no harm Spent my days makin' wages out on the Martin's farm No eastern boys are gonna twist my arm It's so damn cold out here, the wind'll cut you half in two I ain't kiddin' now, my old plow is frozen to my mule I've been livin' off of ice-cold rainbow stew Don't be pickin' fights with no Mennonites Don't be raisin' cane while they're plantin' grain And workin' through the night Gonna let you know if you ain't actin' right So, Mr. Toronto man, go away from my door You've got my wheat and canola seed, you're askin' me for more Better fly 'fore I produce my .44 Better fly 'fore I produce my .44