The dirt was clay and was the color of the blood in me A twelve acre farm on a ridge in south Tennessee We left our sweat all over that land behind a mule we watched grow old Row after row Tryin' to grow corn and cotton on ground so poor that grass won't grow
There was one old store in the holler we all called town It belonged to a gentle old man named Henry Brown He gave us credit in the winter time so we could live through the cold When the winds brought snow Tryin' to grow corn and cotton on ground so poor that grass won't grow [ guitar ] Oh the one I loved walked through those fields with me She was a hard workin' woman true as one could be Oh but then one year death was goin' round and swiftly took it's toll Janie had to go Now she lies asleep under ground so poor that grass won't grow
As I stand here looking over this part of Tennessee The fields are bare as far as the eye can see And over the grave where Janie lies there's a beautiful sight to behold And no one knows Why there's flowers growing on ground so poor that grass won't grow Now there's flowers growing on ground so poor that grass won't growTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
