A worried man, I stand alone outside my farm and family 
home.
And there I raise my bloodshot eyes and gaze upon a 
parchment sky.
My handy work had turned to dust so all my faith in God 
I thrust.
Now, to tha sky this worried man's cryin'Â…
I saidÂ…

Chorus:
“Lord, I'm prayin' for that rollin' thunder”.
“Lord, I'm under a mountain of sand”. 
“Lord, I'm prayin' for that rollin' thunder”.
And I wonder, can you heal my land?

The wind has spurned the land so hard, majestic fields 
of wheat lay charred.
And through this desert camouflage, to me appeared a 
cruel mirage
of water from a mountain springÂ…an end to all my 
suffering.
No mercy and no favor earned. My cattle culled and my 
bushes burned.

Chorus:
“Lord, I'm prayin' for that rollin' thunder”.
“Lord, I'm under a mountain of sand”. 
“Lord, I'm prayin' for that rollin' thunder”.
And I wonder, can you heal my land?

If God demands a sacrifice, tell me. What's his asking 
price?
To the land, I pledged my life. But Abraham with his 
killin' knife
has come and claimed this prairie son in the heartland 
of Saskatchewan.
A farmer earns a livin' or dies for tryin'.

Chorus:
“Lord, I'm prayin' for that rollin' thunder”.
“Lord, I'm under a mountain of sand”. 
“Lord, I'm prayin' for that rollin' thunder”.
And I wonder, can you heal my land?