A
Hardest work that ever I done bent beneath that burning sun
E A
was hauling that tobacco round to cure
A
how we’d chop that wicked weed ‘til our hands and fingers bleed
E A
working like a mule maybe more
D A
we’ve been farming on this land since eighteen hundred ten
D E
through flood and drought and pestilence and war
A
now I sure am sad to say that I lived to see the day
E A
that we don’t grow tobacco round here no more
we don’t grow, we don’t grow,
though it’s still the only work we’ll ever know
we don’t grow, we don’t grow,
we don’t grow to- bacco round here no more
Grandpa told me this I know, change is coming won’t be slow
knocking just like thunder at the door, fallow fields are all around
empty barns just falling down, ironweed is coming up through the floor
once we growed it by the pound now the kids all moved to town
and all that’s left are elderly and poor.
Now I sure am sad to say that I lived to see this day, that we don’t grow tobacco round here no more
we don’t grow, we don’t grow,
though It’s still the only work we’ll ever know
we don’t grow, we don’t grow,
we don’t grow tobacco round here no more
yes I sure am sad to say this way of life has gone away
now that we don’t grow tobacco round here no more
we don’t grow tobacco round here no more