William Elliott Whitmore - Dry lyrics

Well the song of the blackbird is mighty clear On a mornin' such as this And all those useless pains & fears Those things that I won't miss And the Morning Glories and Queen Anne's lace Baptized by the wind These inspirations are my saving grace In these times we're living in Make a hard man humble Make a proud woman hide Her eyes from the light of day When all the crops have withered and died And the soil has blown away The ground is so dry The river's on its hands and knees And I hear that tune in the breeze The crow is callin' and I hear him well Up in the red bud tree Any the stories that you've lived to tell Pa** 'em down to me Whisper the truth Into your childrens ears Let them know Let them understand Let them hear The song of the blackbird is mighty loud Through the evening mist The moon is up and it looks so proud Lookin' down on a night, on a night like this