Hard Row to Hoe

Ten long years

Ten more to go

One rotten jail

Go on, let me go, son.

Save your prayers

Cry no more

It ain't going to help none.

Could be the way it was.

Could be the way it was.

Could be the way it all was sown.

Could be a hard row to hoe.

You're hitting land with hardened hoe.

But all you plant don't want to grow none.

Beyond the pale, driven dust

There ain't no wonder.

It's hard to tell which way it goes.

Doing well, then way down the road, son.

You're taking hell and giving blood

To all that want some.

Could be a hard row to hoe.

Where it ends we never know.

How or when or way down the road, son.

What kind of men will we become?

I'm trying to tell you.

Don't let them break me, lord.

Don't let them break me, lord.

Could be the way it all was sown.

Could be a hard row to hoe.