Lyrics
The dirt was clay and the color of the blood in me
A twelve-acre farm on a ridge in south Tennessee
We left our sweat all over that land
Behind a mule we watched grow old
Row after row
Trying to grow corn and cotton on ground so poor
That grass won't grow
There was one old store in the holler that we called town
It belonged to a gentle old man named Henry Brown
And he gave us grit in the wintertime
So we could go through the cold
When the winds brought snow
Trying to grow corn and cotton on ground so poor
That grass won't grow
The one I loved walked through those fields with me
A hard-working woman, true as one could ever be
But then one year, death was going around
And swiftly took its toll
And Janie had to go
Now she lies asleep under the ground so poor
That grass won't grow
As I stand here looking over this part of Tennessee
The fields were bare as far as the eye could see
And over the grave where Janie lies
There's a beautiful sight to behold
No one knows
Why there's flowers growin' on ground so poor
That grass won't grow
Why there's flowers growin' on ground so poor
That grass won't grow