No Man's Land (S. Storms) Ventured west to stake his claim and the promise of a better life When he reached the Cimarron River, he took himself a wife Settled down near Boise City, busting sod in the August heat Ripped the grassland from the prairie to harvest winter wheat In the spring of '28, a record harvest graced the land But by the summer of 1932 all the earth had turned to sand And the tumbleweed is rolling, blue norther's howl and moan By the spring of '35 we knew you reap just what you sow They stayed behind, stayed behind I'm Dust Bowl refugee, cuz my daddy would not flee This godforsaken homestead here in No Man's Land Twenty-two cent a bushel, supply but no demand The economy was dying as we tractored out the land The railroad never made it, banks they all went bust Comanche spirits haunt us as we slept in beds of dust Then my daddy slipped away in early '41 I'm just a high plains drifter A sodbuster's son