We Don't Grow Tobacco Lyrics
| Song | We Don't Grow Tobacco |
| Artist | Old Crow Medicine Show |
| Album | Carry Me Back |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Throw a capo on the third fret and this should sound about right. | |
| Hardest work that ever | |
| I done, bent beneath that burnin’ sun | |
| Haulin’ that tobacco ‘round to cure | |
| How we chopped that wicked weed ‘till our hands and fingers bleed | |
| Workin’ like a mule, maybe more | |
| We been farmin’ on this land | |
| Since eighteen hundred ten | |
| Through flood and drought | |
| And pestilence and war | |
| Now I sure am sad to say | |
| That I’ve lived to see this day | |
| When we don’t grow tobacco ‘ | |
| Round here no more | |
| We don’t grow, we don’t grow | |
| Oh, 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 | |
| Granpa told me, this | |
| I know, change is comin’, won’t be slow | |
| Knockin’ just like thunder at the door | |
| Fallow fields are all around, empty barns just fallin’ down | |
| Iron weeds comin’ up through the floor | |
| Once we growed it by the pound | |
| Now the kids all move to town | |
| And all that’s left are elderly and poor | |
| Now I sure and sad to say | |
| That I’ve lived to see the day | |
| When we don’t grow tobacco ‘ | |
| Round here no more | |
| We don’t grow, we don’t grow | |
| Oh, 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 |
| Throw a capo on the third fret and this should sound about right. | |
| Hardest work that ever | |
| I done, bent beneath that burnin' sun | |
| Haulin' that tobacco ' round to cure | |
| How we chopped that wicked weed ' till our hands and fingers bleed | |
| Workin' like a mule, maybe more | |
| We been farmin' on this land | |
| Since eighteen hundred ten | |
| Through flood and drought | |
| And pestilence and war | |
| Now I sure am sad to say | |
| That I' ve lived to see this day | |
| When we don' t grow tobacco ' | |
| Round here no more | |
| We don' t grow, we don' t grow | |
| Oh, 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 | |
| Granpa told me, this | |
| I know, change is comin', won' t be slow | |
| Knockin' just like thunder at the door | |
| Fallow fields are all around, empty barns just fallin' down | |
| Iron weeds comin' up through the floor | |
| Once we growed it by the pound | |
| Now the kids all move to town | |
| And all that' s left are elderly and poor | |
| Now I sure and sad to say | |
| That I' ve lived to see the day | |
| When we don' t grow tobacco ' | |
| Round here no more | |
| We don' t grow, we don' t grow | |
| Oh, 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 |
| Throw a capo on the third fret and this should sound about right. | |
| Hardest work that ever | |
| I done, bent beneath that burnin' sun | |
| Haulin' that tobacco ' round to cure | |
| How we chopped that wicked weed ' till our hands and fingers bleed | |
| Workin' like a mule, maybe more | |
| We been farmin' on this land | |
| Since eighteen hundred ten | |
| Through flood and drought | |
| And pestilence and war | |
| Now I sure am sad to say | |
| That I' ve lived to see this day | |
| When we don' t grow tobacco ' | |
| Round here no more | |
| We don' t grow, we don' t grow | |
| Oh, 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 | |
| Granpa told me, this | |
| I know, change is comin', won' t be slow | |
| Knockin' just like thunder at the door | |
| Fallow fields are all around, empty barns just fallin' down | |
| Iron weeds comin' up through the floor | |
| Once we growed it by the pound | |
| Now the kids all move to town | |
| And all that' s left are elderly and poor | |
| Now I sure and sad to say | |
| That I' ve lived to see the day | |
| When we don' t grow tobacco ' | |
| Round here no more | |
| We don' t grow, we don' t grow | |
| Oh, 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 |
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