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
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 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