This one’s not my usual kind of video — no road trip, slot machine, or random adventure. But I had to share it.
These are some powerful images from the oil fields of North Dakota. I’ve spent time out there, and let me tell you, it’s hot, loud, dirty, and relentless. But there’s a rhythm to it — a grit and grind that deserves a spotlight. So I made this video to capture that energy, and set it to a full-blown '80s-style rock anthem.
It’s called "Pump Jack" — and yeah, it’s loud. It’s sweaty. It’s unapologetically blue-collar.
Not everyone sees this side of North Dakota. But I think they should.
Pictures are all from Don "Radio" Anger. https://www.facebook.com/don.anger.35
Pump Jack
Lyrics:
[Intro]
Out here in the Bakken, we don’t punch clocks
We punch through bedrock.
Let’s light it up.
[Verse 1]
Sun’s cookin’ steel out near Williston town
Dust on my boots and the pressure’s down
Hydraulics hummin’ like a wasp on fire
We chase that crude like a live wire
No shade out here, just grit and flame
Tools so hot, they burn your name
Roughneck rhythm on a rig that roars
North Dakota thunder from the oil-rich floor
[Chorus]
Pump Jack — grindin’ through the shale
Black gold blowin’ in the heatwave trail
We’re hammer-down in the noonday blaze
Out in the fields where the diesel plays
Pump Jack — sweat and gasoline
Livin’ out loud in a drilling machine
No silver spoon, just busted backs
Pump Jack, North Dakota on the tracks
[Verse 2]
Three states away, they don’t know the sound
Of a drill string singin’ underground
But out here, the land talks back
Every rig’s a beast, every hand’s got a knack
We fight the flare in the prairie skies
Chasin’ pay through a thousand tries
Fargo boys and Dakota sons
Workin’ the patch till the job gets done
[Chorus]
Pump Jack — grindin’ through the shale
Black gold blowin’ in the heatwave trail
We’re hammer-down in the noonday blaze
Out in the fields where the diesel plays
Pump Jack — sweat and gasoline
Livin’ out loud in a drilling machine
No silver spoon, just busted backs
Pump Jack, North Dakota on the tracks
[Bridge]
This ain’t TV work, this is torque and flame
We ain’t drillin’ for fun — we’re changin’ the game
It’s calloused hands and burnin’ skies
We don’t fold. We rise.
[Final Chorus]
Pump Jack — diggin’ deep and mean
In the heart of the Bakken machine
Line by line, we pull that pay
Sunup to shutdown every damn day
Pump Jack — born to bleed this land
With a wrench in hand and a rock band stand
We don’t stop, we just attack
Pump Jack, North Dakota’s back
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