Stanley's old tractor sat inside of the shed
With its shiny gold paint and wheels of bright red.
It's a brand of tractor that's no longer seen
For Prairie Gold and red mean Minneapolis-Moline.
What was once a tractor is now a faithful friend
And it stayed on in the family with its work at an end.
Yet as one work had ended another had begun.
It was rebuilt by Stanley and Jeff, his son.
The years had gone by with no time to repair.
Now it has fresh oil and filters, new tires full of air.
Jeff started the tractor on a warm July day
And hitched it to a flat-rack that usually hauled hay.
And while the tractor and wagon had been together before
This day would be different for what was in store.
And it was unusual about the way Jeff was dressed.
Instead of cap and blue jeans he was wearing his best.
His movements, instead of being steady and quick,
Were slow and uncomfortable as though he were sick.
With the tractor and wagon hitched and ready to travel
Jeff went down the driveway turning to town on the gravel.
And while Jeff had driven this combination before
This was the first time he took them to a funeral home door.
Jeff looked at the Minneapolis before going inside
And lovingly examined his work with great pride.
The old faithful Minnie, so good at each task,
And now from it he had one more favor to ask.
The old tractor would do the hardest job of all
And carry a load nearly too heavy too haul.
The tractor would do it. It'd hardly know it was there.
But it was a heavy load for their hearts to bear.
And Jeff knew though his father was gone
Dad'd take satisfaction with the tractor living on.
So now the old Minnie who'd done jobs that were worse
Would take a new job as an old farmer's hearse.
A sad procession then moved steady and slow
Going to a country church led by the old Minnie-Mo.
In front of the church Jeff rested in the seat
To gather his strength before rising to his feet.
As he lifted his leg and stepped off to the ground
He saw friends and neighbors all standing around.
Jeff looked at each one forcing a smile on his face,
For he knew them all well and knew they felt out of place.
It wasn't easy looking at the faces of the people
Who slowly filed in the big door 'neath the steeple.
Everyone knew Stanley and the tractor were a pair
Because they were both unique and each was rare.
I don't know what happened in heaven that day
As a Minneapolis-Moline and flat-rack led the way.
But it would seem to me that in the heavens above
The angels watched over this great act of love.