He had hard work caked on his overalls,
sweat on his neck,
jaw in his jaw,
when a stranger pulled up and met him outside his barn.
Said,
sir,
I don't know if you ever would,
but I built houses and neighborhoods,
and I was wondering if you'd ever want to sell your farm.
With his old dog barking and running around,
he paused for a second,
spit on the ground,
and kicked a little gravel,
looked down and said,
This is my dirt,
these are my fields,
where I harvest what I plant,
that little pond I catch bluegill,
I built that barn with my two hands,
where I raise my babies a piece of me.
Now this ain't just a piece of land,
the money be great,
but I can't part ways with a life that works.
You can't put a greenback dollar on what it's worth,
this is my dirt.
My dirt.
Great granddaddy bought it for a hundred and acre,
he just got married when he signed the
papers,
him and his brothers framed that old farmhouse.
Every fence post here we put in the ground,
ran the barbed wire and pulled the plow,
every
last hay bale we bailed it.
Yeah, I'd hate to be the first to sell it.
This is my dirt,
these are my fields,
where I harvest what I plant,
that little pond I catch bluegill,
I built that barn with my two hands,
where I raise my babies a piece of me.
Now this ain't just a piece of land,
the money be great,
but I can't part ways with a life that works.
You can't put a greenback dollar on what it's worth,
this is my dirt.
This is where five generations have prayed for rain,
they'll cover me in it when the good Lord calls my name.
This is my dirt, these are my fields,
where I harvest what I plant,
that little pond I catch bluegill,
I built that barn with my two hands,
where I raise my babies a piece of me.
Now this ain't just a piece of land,
the money be great,
but I can't part ways with a life that works.
You can't put a greenback dollar on what it's worth,
this is my dirt.
Yeah,
this is my dirt.
Yeah,
this is my dirt,
where I harvest what I plant,
this is my dirt,
where I raise my babies,
this is my dirt.