The car-man comes to town with fleet mileage broken down,
But the tax-man is the man who bleeds us all.
If the pols who took D.C. pause to think through energy,
Then a part of their grand plan is ethanol.

Corn farmer is the man; corn farmer is the man,
Gives what fed pigs in the stall.
We could take oil from tar-sand, ocean reefs or arctic land,
But the Middle East is where we get it all.

The lawyers came around to protect Nantucket Sound
From those windmills that could make some seagulls fall.
Not a creature they forsook; wanted trolling in each brook,
So corn farmer was the man to heed the call.

When a power station's broke, must upgrade to lessen smoke;
We forget utilities now need them all.
It would put them to the test if our power needs don't crest.
Relax, their CO2 feeds plants that feed us all.

Then corn farmer looked around for a place to plant more ground,
And the soybeans and the wheat cut with his knife;
Tilled the land that fallow lay, though he lost his gum'mint pay;
Hired migrant hands who bring no union strife.

Now refineries in town take his silage, break it down;
Once this grain was sold in can or cob withal.
He's a bettor now, no doubt, that never corn demand runs out,
And his farm can long withstand a low rainfall.

Corn farmer is the man; corn farmer is the man;
Come and fill your tank with gasoanol.
Just put on mechanic's duds when your engine gets the cruds,
Because it's hardly made to stand much ethanol.

[Big pause] No carburetor handles ethanol.
[Big pause] A harmer of life-span is ethanol.
[Big pause] Old cars just never ran with ethanol.
[Big pause] Think warmer, Greens, I'm banning ethanol!