| 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
|
| In a half acre field
|
| Tryin' to plow a furrow
|
| Where the soil is made of steel
|
| 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 |