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- Джон Стейнбек
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You
’
ll
have
to
get
off
the
land
.
The
plows
’
ll
go
through
the
dooryard
.
And
now
the
squatting
men
stood
up
angrily
.
Grampa
took
up
the
land
,
and
he
had
to
kill
the
Indians
and
drive
them
away
.
And
Pa
was
born
here
,
and
he
killed
weeds
and
snakes
.
Then
a
bad
year
came
and
he
had
to
borrow
a
little
money
.
An
’
we
was
born
here
.
There
in
the
doorour
children
born
here
.
And
Pa
had
to
borrow
money
.
The
bank
owned
the
land
then
,
but
we
stayed
and
we
got
a
little
bit
of
what
we
raised
.
We
know
that
—
all
that
.
It
’
s
not
us
,
it
’
s
the
bank
.
A
bank
isn
’
t
like
a
man
.
Or
an
owner
with
fifty
thousand
acres
,
he
isn
’
t
like
a
man
either
.
That
’
s
the
monster
.
Sure
,
cried
the
tenant
men
,
but
it
’
s
our
land
.
We
measured
it
and
broke
it
up
.
We
were
born
on
it
,
and
we
got
killed
on
it
,
died
on
it
.
Even
if
it
’
s
no
good
,
it
’
s
still
ours
.
That
’
s
what
makes
it
ours
—
being
born
on
it
,
working
it
,
dying
on
it
.
That
makes
ownership
,
not
a
paper
with
numbers
on
it
.
We
’
re
sorry
.
It
’
s
not
us
.
It
’
s
the
monster
.
The
bank
isn
’
t
like
a
man
.
Yes
,
but
the
bank
is
only
made
of
men
.
No
,
you
’
re
wrong
there
—
quite
wrong
there
.
The
bank
is
something
else
than
men
.
It
happens
that
every
man
in
a
bank
hates
what
the
bank
does
,
and
yet
the
bank
does
it
.
The
bank
is
something
more
than
men
,
I
tell
you
.
It
’
s
the
monster
.
Men
made
it
,
but
they
can
’
t
control
it
.
The
tenants
cried
,
Grampa
killed
Indians
,
Pa
killed
snakes
for
the
land
.
Maybe
we
can
kill
banks
—
they
’
re
worse
than
Indians
and
snakes
.
Maybe
we
got
to
fight
to
keep
our
land
,
like
Pa
and
Grampa
did
.
And
now
the
owner
men
grew
angry
.
You
’
ll
have
to
go
.
But
it
’
s
ours
,
the
tenant
men
cried
.
WeNo
.
The
bank
,
the
monster
owns
it
.
You
’
ll
have
to
go
.
We
’
ll
get
our
guns
,
like
Grampa
when
the
Indians
came
.
What
then
?
Well
—
first
the
sheriff
,
and
then
the
troops
.
You
’
ll
be
stealing
if
you
try
to
stay
,
you
’
ll
be
murderers
if
you
kill
to
stay
.
The
monster
isn
’
t
men
,
but
it
can
make
men
do
what
it
wants
.
But
if
we
go
,
where
’
ll
we
go
?
How
’
ll
we
go
?
We
got
no
money
.
We
’
re
sorry
,
said
the
owner
men
.
The
bank
,
the
fifty
-
thousand
-
acre
owner
can
’
t
be
responsible
.
You
’
re
on
land
that
isn
’
t
yours
.
Once
over
the
line
maybe
you
can
pick
cotton
in
the
fall
.
Maybe
you
can
go
on
relief
.
Why
don
’
t
you
go
on
west
to
California
?
There
’
s
work
there
,
and
it
never
gets
cold
.
Why
,
you
can
reach
out
anywhere
and
pick
an
orange
.
Why
,
there
’
s
always
some
kind
of
crop
to
work
in
.
Why
don
’
t
you
go
there
?
And
the
owner
men
started
their
cars
and
rolled
away
.
