The dirt was clay and was 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 o 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 grains 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