| The family’s been here for
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| The last hundred years
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| And it’s all that he’s ever known
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| Life in the cotton fields
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| Swamps and the rolling hills
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| Always called Arkansas home
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| But when the war came
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| Like his father before
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| He joined the army
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| And went to the war
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| Leaving the rolling hills
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| Swamps and the cotton fields
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| Bound for a Normandy shore
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| The patch that he wore on
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| His uniform
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| Was both blue and grey
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| The colors of men who died
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| Fighting another fight
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| And more would die today
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| At Omaha beach against Germany
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| A young country boy
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| Struggled out of the sea
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| Up on the sand where
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| Many a man
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| Would never know victory
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| Fought the entire time
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| Up on the front line
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| It was lonely, bloody and cold
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| The only relief he’d find
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| Might be some old French wine
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| The water was all dirty and froze
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| But he was luckier than some
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| A better soldier than most
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| He came back from Europe
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| But never got home
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| Now he’s back on the farm
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| But not out of harm
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| He drank so the pain wouldn’t show
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| Well he left behind
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| My brothers and I
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| We never really knew him at all
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| I barely remember him
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| Smoking with a grin
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| But looking mean; |
| standing tall
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| Well I can only hope
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| That he wouldn’t be ashamed
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| Of the man I become
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| And the life that I made
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| And he did the hardest part
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| And lived life with all his heart
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| And I hope I don’t let him down |