Field Song letra

Write this down, and don't forget
That the best of times ain't happened yet
The gilded age has long been done
And so many lost when the west was won

Let's go to the field we're gonna do some work
Spend our day digging in the dirt
We'll hope for rain to follow the plow
And this piece of ground is a homestead now
This little piece of ground is a homestead now

Three square meals and a living wage
Reminds me of the good ol' days
Before the manifest destiny of the factory farms
When those cut throats came and burned down the barn

Underneath the black locust tree
There's a shady place that waits for me
To rest my bones and to rest my mind
I'm gonna rest right here when I die

Write this down and don't forget
That the best of times ain't happened yet

William Elliott Whitmore - Letras

• A Good Day To Die
• Burn My Body
• Bury Me Not On The Lone Prairie
• Bury Your Burdens In The Ground
• Cold And Dead
• Diggin´ My Grave
• Does Me No Good
• Dry
• Everyday
• Everything Gets Goes
• Field Song
• From The Cell Door To The Gallows
• Hard Times
• Have Mercy
• Hell or High Water
• History
• Johnny Law
• Lee County Flood
• Let The Rain Come In
• Lifetime Underground
• Lift My Jug
• Lord Only Knows
• Midnight
• Mutiny
• Not Feeling Any Pain
• Old Devils
• One Man's Shame
• Our Paths Will Cross Again
• Porchlight
• Red Buds
• Rest His Soul
• Solar Flare
• Sometimes Our Dreams Float Like Anchors
• Take It On The Chin
• The Chariot
• There's Hope For You
• When Push Comes To Love
• Who Stole the Soul