Lyrics:

George Jones &amp Dolly Parton,
trisha Yearwood, Emmylou Harris

the Dirt Was Clay An Was 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 An Cotton On Ground So Poor That Grass Wont Grow.

there Was One Old Store In The Holler We All Called Town.
it Belonged To A Gentle Old Man Named Henry Brown.
he Gave Us Grits And In The Winter Time,
so We Could Live Through The Cold,
when The Winds Brought Snow.
trying To Grow Corn An Cotton On Ground So Poor That Grass Wont Grow.

the One I Loved Walked Through Those Fields With Me.
a Hard Workin Woman, True As One Could Be.
but Then One Year, Death Was Goin Round,
and Swiftly Took Its Toll.
janie Had To Go.
now She Lies Asleep Under Ground So Poor That Grass Wont Grow.

as I Stand Here Looking Over This Part Of Tennessee,
the Fields Are Bare As Far As The Eye Can See.
and Over The Ground Where Janie Lies,
theres A Beautiful Sight To Behold,
and No One Knows,
why Theres Flowers Growin On Ground So Poor That Grass Wont Grow...