I've seen him plow a field of corn all day.
His overalls are black with dirtbut his face is still full of dignity.
He talks about the waetherand he can tell you when it's gonna rain.
Told me 'bout the flood of twenty-nine that washed the crops away.
Underneath that alabama skygrandpa told me 'bout the things he'd seen.
Underneath that alabama skyi listened to my grandpa's memories.
At times he mentions grandmaturn his head and wipe away a tear.
Sometimes we'd take her picture down and sit and pretend that she's still
Three girls and two boys he raised on love and simple honesty.
And when they fin'lly have to carry him awaythey'll take a lot of me.
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