Lyrics : Lawrence Hammond
Music : Lawrence Hammond
Hey mama, here's a letter from your son
Well, I guess my city days are done, ma
And it ain't been three weeks since you came
Hey mama, I do remember what you said
Say your prayers before you go to bed, son
And remember city women ain't the same
I'm like a John Deere tractor
In a half acre field
I'm tryin' to plow the furrows
Where the soil is made of steel
Oh I wish I was home, ma
Where the blue grass is growin'
And them sweet country girls don't complain
Hey mama, so much perfumе I thought I'd drown
And the Lord didn't seem to be nowherе around
I feel like a flower on the vine
Aw she was pretty Lord knows, I thought that she would bring me joy
But she laughed, and she called me "country boy" boy
And after she had been so kind
I'm like a John Deere tractor
In a half acre field
Tryin' to plow the furrows
Where the soil is made of steel
Oh I wish I was home, ma
Where the blue grass is growin'
And the fire light shimmers and shines