| There were signs beside the road like «Jesus Saves»
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| And «Relieve yourself the fast and gentle way»
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| I was lookin' for an old man who lived way back in these hills
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| Who just might have a story I could tell
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| Pretty soon the blacktop disappeared
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| I felt the car change to a lower gear
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| I took a drink of liquor just to chase away the chill
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| I was 27 miles from Olive Hill
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| Ahead I saw the bridge where I turned right
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| A dirt road led straight up a mountainside
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| I pulled up to a farmhouse I thought I had seen before
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| An old man and his dog were at the door
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| They told me this old-timer knew this land
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| I told him, «Sir, I just don’t understand
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| Why the kids in this state just grow up and move away
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| And leave the land where they were born and raised.»
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| He said, «Son, you can’t make it on this land
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| Unless you’re happy workin' with your hands
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| There ain’t no kids today that wanna stay and work it out
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| They wanna see the things they hear about.»
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| He said, «I cleared this whole farm off myself
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| And I’d work it now but time has got my health.»
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| Then starin' out the window restin' in his easy chair
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| He told me what I’d really come to hear
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| «You know, son, people used to tell their kids
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| 'Now, I don’t want you to have to work the way I did.'
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| They don’t and some will tell you that it’s a shame
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| But you have to think before you place the blame.»
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| I guess we must have talked for half a day
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| 'Til I told him that I’d best be on my way
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| He shook my hand and said, «I'm glad I met you, Mr. Hall
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| But I guess there ain’t no song here after all.» |