Where Grass Won't Grow

The dirt was clay and was the color of the blood in me
On 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
trying 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
gave credit in the wintertime so we could live through the cold when wind brought the snow
Trying to grow corn and cotton on ground so poor that grass won’t grow

The one I loved walked through those fields with me
He was a hardworking man, as true as one could be
But Last year death was going 'round and swiftly took its toll he had to go Now he lies asleep underground, 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 my love lies there's a beautiful sight to behold and no one knows
Why there’s flowers blooming on ground, so poor, that grass won’t grow
Now there’s flowers blooming on ground, so poor, that grass won’t grow