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Dear mama, well, here's a letter from your girl |
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Well, I think my city days are done, mom |
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And it ain't been three weeks since I came |
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And mama, do remember what you said |
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Say your prayers before you go to bed, child |
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And remember city boys ain't the same |
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I'm like the John Deere tractor |
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In a half acre field |
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Tryin' to plow a furrow |
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Where the soil is made of steel |
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How I wish I was home, mom |
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Where the blue grass is growin' |
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And the sweet country boys don't complain |
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And, mama, so much perfume I thought I'd drown |
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And the Lord didn't seem to be nowhere around |
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Hey, I felt just like a flower from the vine |
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I'm like the John Deere tractor |
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In a half acre field |
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Tryin' to plow a furrow |
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Where the soil is made of steel |
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How I'd like to be home, mom |
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Where the blue grass is growin' |
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And the fire light shimmers and it shines |
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I'm like a John Deere tractor |
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In a half acre field |
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Tryin' to plow a furrow |
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Where the soil is made of steel |
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How I wish I was home, mom |
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Where the blue grass is growin' |
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And the sweet country boys |
