A 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 Trying to grow corn and cotton on ground support But grass won't grow There was one old store in the heart we all called town It belonged to a gentle old man named Henry Brown He gave us credit in the wintertime so we could live through the cold When the winds brought snow Trying to grow corn and cotton on ground support But grass won't grow Oh, the one I loved walked through those fields with me She was a hard working woman, true as one could be Oh, but then one year death was going round And swiftly took its toll The journey had to go Now she 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 Jamie 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