Very moving! An excellent illustration of the resistance to change, its' negative outcomes, the lose and disorientation, the social response to the pace of technology and population growth.  That's what I find so powerful about your poetry. It utilizes such economy of words yet speaks volumes.  

This particular lyric has the same impact as naturalism in literature: sort of a man against nature idea in which man can only lament  those great, emotionally detached forces that propel life forward against our will. The forces could care less. They don't feel anything and their leviathan nature makes them an impossible foe.  Life pushes us to reckon with the prospect to create ourselves all over again when we're perfectly comfortable with what we are right now.

The impact on men? Hmmm. Well, my first thought is that women actually did a whole lot more than cook and, perhaps, being confronted with the myth that they were as much the backbone of survival as the hunter is difficult to swallow. It's one of the great myths of literature that the weight of home building was only on the shoulders of men. Think about it. I like to think of my grandmother, a tiny little Irish woman who plowed her own garden every year with a borrowed mule, even while practically no one else did such a thing. My God, what a sight! This little woman controlling a mule that was twice her height, and doing it like she invented the skills. It was an amazing sight to see. She planted the family garden and worked it while bearing and raising six children in an Oklahoma that was more wilderness than civilized, and she just kept on working when the town got closer. She walked about four miles to her job as a meat packer/butcher and when she got home she cooked and washed clothes, fed pigs and chickens, ironed clothes, scrubbed kids and went to bed exhausted. Then got up and did it all over again the next day.

I think my grandfather would probably have felt bad about his wife having to work so hard because he'd feel that he wasn't "man" enough to provide for his family on his own power. But to watch film from the hay day of the western genre, you'd have thought women just wore bonnets and sat and looked pretty while the men were driving cattle from Abilene to Kansas City. It really was that way. 

That's my first thoughts.  

I greatly appreciate you taking the time to reflect on the lyrics and to offer such valuable and insightful feedback.  It means a lot to me. 

Your grandmother sounds like an amazing woman, and you're right, the stereotype of what used to be does not really reflect a great deal of accuracy in every case.  In general, however, I would say that roles traditionally assumed by women and roles traditionally held by men have gone through some pretty profound changes over the years, wouldn't you agree? 

These words    they're makin' cities  of my favorite towns    are just so true.  And so sad.   

Much too true, and much too sad.  I appreciate your comment sys_mom.  It's good to know that I'm not alone with those sentiments.

I'm reminded of all the jabber on the blog from people who want more shopping, more restaurants, more this and more that.  I don't.  I never did.  I never wanted to live in a metropolis or to have this "town" become one .  Or even a facsimile of one.

I have always had simple needs and tastes for the most part and when I felt this town didn't have what I wanted, I just got in the car and went where the city lights were brighter and the hustle was bustlier.  The thing is, I didn't have to live amidst the chaos.

This song speaks to me on several levels, one of which is that in my younger days, Saturday nights meant roping arenas or tack and horse auctions.  It meant meeting up with old friends there and spending time shooting the breeze.  It meant meeting up at Teakwoods or The Pink Pig in Oildale where all the cowboys and horseshoers hung out because of all the stables along the river.   It meant riding from Calloway to meet friends for a burger at Bucks Drive In on Pierce road. 

I'm sure the roping arenas are still around, and maybe the tack auctions too, but the riding we used to do is gone.  The country nightclubs whose number was in the 5-10 range at any given time..they are all gone.  Down now to two and one of them is like a dance hall gal in a fancy dress.

I miss those days.  I miss when a trip to the mall was an event.  I even miss the days when a trip downtown and to a movie was an event.  I miss the drive in movies now replaced by storage buildings and RV parks.

They say you can't go home again.  Well, you can, but it's all changed and you won't recognize it.

Husband -- I hope your Gramma was careful with that mule. 

You know mules can be mean as a wet cat. They are (I have always maintained) smarter than a horse. And if you mistreat them -- they'll get you back. Maybe not today or tomorrow...... but they will.........

When people want a mule (even for packing) because they think they are  "easier" than a horse, I always have to stop them right there and explain a few things to em.

You get a good mule, treat him (or her) right though, and you've got something of beauty.

But a good ones not cheap!

Good lyrics BTW Blogn.........

My dad always said a horse getting tangled up in "bob wire" would tear itself to pieces trying to get loose, but a mule in the same fix would just stand and wait for YOU to untangle it.

Had a little pony mule one time..mouse colored she was.  Named her "Precious."  That had to be the biggest misnomer ever created.

Mules => No Better Friend........ No Worse An Enemy........

Nancy, and Chico, it's great to hear your positive and encouraging feedback (not to mention your humorous wit, Chico, and your entertaining memories and reflections, Nancy.