I was born a city girl. They moved me into the heat of the valley near the Mississippi back streams with a song growing in me.

My pa was born and Englishmen until he left for the lakes of 10,000. His wondering years in the city lead him to leave for the driftless land.

The song I sing is all I bring. I have nothing to give but this is. A sinners prayer, hope in despair, with tears up on my hands.

My mom was born a city girl. Alone in the crowd she stayed there. Took one look at him and fell into his dreams of the driftless land.

The song I sing is all I bring. I have nothing to give but this is. A sinners prayer, hope in despair, with tears up on my hands.

My Lord was born in a lonely place. Spent all of his days a running; spreading the love from heaven leaving his heart in the dripless land.

The song I sing is all I bring. I have nothing to give but this is. A sinners prayer, hope in despair, with tears up on my hands. The song I sing is all I bring. I have nothing to give but this is. A sinners prayer, hope in despair, with tears up on my hands. With tears upon my hands. With tears upon my hands.