Dreams and Aspirations

The soundtrack for my formative years was anything bluegrass. Honkytonk. Steel guitar. 5 string banjo. We always lived way out of town – plenty of miles to listen to Buck Owens, Flatt and Scruggs and The Foggy Mountain Boys. I had many years after leaving home of not listening to the music I grew up with.

Lately, one of my dreams is to learn to play banjo. And I aspire to write songs. I am coming back to my roots.

Maybe someone can put a tune to this one. Because I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.

No water in the hardscrabble dirt
River flows in the rich man’s yard
Lots of stones to sell for graves

The river flows
But my love don’t
The cotton grows
But my babies don’t

Bone button supper and a mason jar
Safety pin waistband and got no car
Sharpen the axe and swing the hammer

The river flows
But my love don’t
The cotton grows
But my babies don’t

Mister’s praying is just a little too far
Debt buzzin’ like skeeters in my ear
Warm my hands at the fires of Hell

The river flows
But my love don’t
The cotton grows
But my babies don’t

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