This is a song about a man
And he grows peppers an d tomatoes
they will share what they've grown
Two different plants with the
The same soil sustains them both.
I grow peppers and tomatoes
And my neighbors all around me
They grow beans and potatoes
in this village where we dwell
we will bring wine to the table
We will share what we have grown
Like my father did before me
And his father did before him
And his father did before him
we will reap what we have sown
From this little patch of dirt
From this little pile of stones
from up my face and up my skin
But this earth is in my bones
Military vehicles are moving to our village
With young soldiers ill at ease
Distrustful and uncertain
Distrustful and uncertain
And all smoking constantly
My neighbors say, don't worry
You are one of us, my friend
An d it will not happen here
But the next night at the cafe
When I bring wine to the table
When I bring wine to the table
They are sitting drinking beer
Last night the hand of friendship
fell heavy on my shoulder,
As I said goodnight some old men,
And singing words to song
Oh, this little patch of dirt
Oh, this little pile of stones
off of my face and of my skin
But this earth is in my bones
This morning my wife told me
she'd been to church on Sunday,
she'd been to church on Sunday,
she'd felt the need to pray,
our children were baptized there,
but it was just a bleasy old ones,
it was just a bleasy old ones,
and I don't know what to say.
Oh, this little patch of dirt
Oh, this little pile of stones
I can wash the dust off of
But this earth is in my bones
Tonight as dark as falling,
And the crop that I have grown,
and my truck is heavy laden
But soon I'll start the en gine,
soon I'll start the engine
Wake the children and be gone
And my shotgun it is loaded,
it's hidden in the cabin,
And the evening's growing in chill,
my mouth is dry, my hands are moist
If someone tries to stop me,
if someone tries to stop me
Oh, this little patch of dirt
Oh, this little pile of thorns
I can wash the dust off of my face
And off my skin and on my
But this earth is in my bones
When I smell the cigarette smoke
Smell the cigarette smoke
And I turn round in the dust
and I see the glint of rifles
but I cannot see the faces
but I recognize the voices
that say you must come with us
4.9
