Old Tractor Mechanic

Old tin roof, plastered adobe walls that were melting Two big Cottonwood trees, junk cars in the back Cracked concrete floor, covered with oil and grease Mexican kids running in and out, playing and screaming Couple of water jugs, covered with gunny sack In all of this was some sort of peace Joes Montes was the owner, we just called him Joe Joe spoke good broken English, had a little accent Talked a lot with his hands, pointing at this and that Did not advertise, everyone knew Old Joe Been there for years, did not pay any rent Always wore a greasy cap, never wore a hat Farmers up and down the valley swore by Joe When a tractor was down, they knew who to call Jump in his old truck and he was there Been known to use bailing wire, he would make them go Cotton pickers to a hale bailer, he worked on them all Never charged much, was always fair Adobe wall have melted, Joe has passed away In that old shop where a lot of memories were made No telling how many tractors Joe made run Tractors now have computers, not in Joe's day The Cottonwood trees make no more shade Joe was a tractor fixing son of a gun