The dirt was clay and was the color of the blood in me-歌词

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 grow