I've seen him plow a field of corn all day
That's reality
His overalls are black with dirt, but his face is still full of dignity
He talks about the waether, and he can tell you when it's gonna rain
Told me 'bout the flood of twenty-nine that washed the crops away

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Underneath that Alabama sky, Grandpa told me 'bout the things he'd seen
Underneath that Alabama sky, I listened to my Grandpa's memories

At times he mentions Grandma, turn his head and wipe away a tear
Sometimes we'd take her picture down and sit and pretend that she's still
here
Three girls and two boys he raised on love and simple honesty
And when they fin'lly have to carry him away, they'll take a lot of me

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