Tom: D
Introdução:
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The dirt was clay and was the color of the blood in me
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A twelve acre farm on a ridge in south Tennessee
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We left that sweat all over that land behind a mule we watched grow old row after row
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Trying to grow corn and cotton on ground so poor that grass won’t grow
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There was one old store in the hollow we all called town
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It belonged to a gentle old man named Henry Brown
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He gave us credit in the wintertime so we could live through the cold when the wind brought snow
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Trying to grow corn and cotton on ground so poor that grass won’t grow
Solo
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The one I loved walked through those fields with me
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She was a hard working woman true as one could be
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But then one year death was going 'round and swiftly took it’s toll, Janie had to go
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Now she lies asleep under ground so poor that grass won’t grow
E A E
As I stand here looking over this part of Tennessee
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The fields are bare as far as the eye can see
C#m E A E
And over the grave where Janie lies there’s a beautiful sight to behold And no one knows
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Why there’s flowers growing on ground so poor that grass won’t grow