by Martin Gilmore


(Martin Gilmore Timtomtodd music, ASCAP)

It hasn’t rained in the bottomland you can hear the farmers cry
If we don’t get a storm soon the crops will turn brown and die
I can’t feel sorry for them though their crops are going dry
Cause they own a farm with bottom land and I’m on a hillside

Clearing rocks out one by one to make some soil to grow
A few things to feed ourselves and sell in the town below
But it takes so long to get them there on the trip they wilt and dry
Before we can even get them there they’re nothing anyone would buy

And I’ve heard them talk about me as I plow the rocky soil into a row
I’ve seen them sit and watch me as they rest on their porches below
What they don’t seem to understand while they’re watching me
Is the farther up the mountain the harder life seems to be

I’ve seen their precious soil plowed into a fertile brown
Surrounded by the green green grass on the road into the town
Their fancy houses whitewashed their barns of bloody red
While the dirt around my shack is as gray as the dead

If I could get some bottomland and acre for my plow
I could work half as hard and get twice as much as now
I could get it into town and sell it on the street
And still have time to spend at home with my family

And I’ve heard them talk about me as I come down to the town
His crops are dry and old and bad why does he even bother to come down
If I could get some bottomland make life easier for me
The higher on the mountain the harder life seems to be

For More Information Contact Martin Gilmore at martin@martingilmore.com