Fields Of Glory

Summer cotton, summer corn Summer hash marks and a scoreboard Summer, where they fought the civil war It's what my grandpa said Picking up brown heads that we found, or Picking up another first down Taking them girls to the edge of town And watching the sky turn red On a blanket in a Chevy bed We grew up on 'em, stirred up dust on 'em We were tough on 'em With our cleats and our retread tires We stayed out late on 'em We went to state on 'em Every blade of that sacred ground's got a thousand stories Fields of glory Fields of glory Shooting cans off a tree stump Cold beer buzzing with the June bugs Setting 'round talking like we knew what We were doing for the rest of our lives We shine down lights on 'em Threw three stripes on 'em Said our goodbyes on 'em Once September came around We had it made on 'em Part of us stayed on 'em Every blade of that sacred ground's got a thousand stories Fields of glory Fields of glory You drop by and see a barbed-wire fence I see boys turning into men I go back every now and then And walk around and think of how We grew up on 'em, stirred up dust on 'em We were tough on 'em With our cleats and our retread tires We stayed out late on 'em We went to state on 'em Every blade of that sacred ground's got a thousand stories Fields of glory Fields of glory Fields of glory They were our fields of glory