Red

If all the clothes you wear are camouflage

And you drive around in a dually Dodge
With a blue-tick hound ridin’ in the bed
You’re red, you’re red

If you’re into sittin’ in a tree stand for daylight
With an eight point buck in your sights
And not for sport but to keep your fed
You’re red, man you’re red

You’re red, white and blue
Country through and through

If your arms are tan and your chest is white
And your idea of eatin’ right
Is turnip greens, fried chicken and cornbread
You’re red, You’re red

Now, if you don’t know who your congressmen are
But you can name every driver in NASCAR
And you cried when you heard Earnhardt was dead
You’re red, man you’re red

You’re red, white and blue
Country through and through

You’re American lovin’, flag wavin’, northern-southern family raisin’
Workin’, playin’, heaven prayin’ country through and through

If Haggard sings your favorite song
And you learned the difference between right and wrong
With a hickory switch out behind the she’d
You’re red, you’re red

If your letter jacket says FFA
And you spend your summers bailin’ hay
With a John Deere cap sittin upon your head
You’re red, man you’re red
You’re red, you’re red
R-E-D

Baby, I know that we’ve got trouble in the fields
When the bankers swarm like locusts they’re turning away our yields
Our dreams roll by our silo, silver in the rain
And leave our pockets full of nothing and our dreams in the golden grain

Have you sees the folks in line downtown at the station?
They’re all buying their tickets out and they’re talking a great depression
Our parents had their hard times fifty years ago
When they stood out in these empty fields in dust as deep as snow

And all this trouble in our fields
If this rain can fall, these wounds can heal
They’ll never take our native soil
If we sell that new John Deere
Then we’ll work these farm with sweat and tears

You’ll be the mule, I’ll be the plow
Come harvest time, we’ll work it out
There’s still a lot of love
Here in these troubled fields

There’s a book up on the shelf about the dust bowl days
There’s a little bit of you and a little bit of me in the photos in every page
Now our children live in the city and they rest upon our shoulders
They never want the rain to fall or the weather to get colder

And all this trouble in our fields
If this rain can fall these wounds can heal
They’ll never take our native soil, no
If we sell that new John Deere
Then we’ll work these farm with sweat and tears

You’ll be the mule, I’ll be the plow
Come harvest time, we’ll work it out
There’s still a lot of love
Here in these troubled fields

You’ll be the mule, I’ll be the plow
Come harvest time, we’ll work it out
There’s still a lot of love
Here in these troubled fields

Oh, Mississippi, you’re on my mind

I think I see a wagon rutted road
With the weeds growing tall between the tracks
And along one side an old rusty barbed wire fence
And beyond that sits an old tar paper shack

Mississippi, you’re on my mind
Mississippi, you’re on my mind
Oh, Mississippi, you’re on my mind

I think I hear a noisy old John Deere
In a field specked with dirty cotton lint
And below that field is a shady little creek
And there you’ll find the cool green leaves of mint

Mississippi you’re on my mind
Mississippi you’re on my mind
Oh, Mississippi, you’re on my mind

I think I smell a honeysuckle vine
And the heavy sweetness like to make me sick
And the dogs, my God, they’re hungry all the time
And the snakes are sleeping where the weeds are thick

Mississippi you’re on my mind
Mississippi you’re on my mind
Oh, Mississippi, you’re on my mind

I think I feel an old angry oven heat
And the southern sun just blazes in the sky
In the dusty weeds, an old fat grasshopper jumps
I want to make it to that creek before I fry

Mississippi, you’re on my mind
Mississippi, you’re on my mind
Oh, Mississippi, you’re on my mind
Mississippi, you’re on my mind
Mississippi, you’re on my mind
Oh, Mississippi, you’re on my mind