~ Letters From Home ~
My Dear Son,
It's almost June,
I hope this letter catches up to you,
And finds you well.
Its been dry,
But they’re calling for rain,
And everything's the same
Ol’ same in Johnsonville.
Your stubborn 'ol Daddy
Ain’t said too much,
But I’m sure you know
He sends his love,
And she goes on,
In a letter from home.
I hold it up and show my buddies,
Like we ain’t scared
And our boots ain’t muddy,
And they all laugh,
Like there’s something funny
About the way I talk,
When I say: "Mama sends her best y’all."
I fold it up an' put it in my shirt,
Pick up my gun an' get back to work.
An' it keeps me driving me on,
Waiting on letters from home.
My Dearest Love,
It's almost dawn.
I’ve been lying here all night long
Wondering where you might be.
I saw your Mama and I showed her the ring.
Man on the television said something
So I couldn’t sleep.
But I’ll be all right,
I’m just missing you.
An' this is me kissing you . . .
X’s and O’s,
In a letter from home.
I hold it up and show my buddies,
Like we ain’t scared
And our boots ain’t muddy,
And they all laugh,
'Cause she calls me "Honey",
But they take it hard,
'Cause I don’t read the good parts.
I fold it up an' put it in my shirt,
Pick up my gun an' get back to work.
An' it keeps me driving me on,
Waiting on letters from home.
Dear Son,
I know I ain’t written,
But sittin' here tonight,
Alone in the kitchen,
It occurs to me,
I might not have said,
So I’ll say it now:
Son, you make me proud.
I hold it up and show my buddies,
Like we ain’t scared
And our boots ain’t muddy,
But no one laughs,
'Cause there ain’t nothing funny
When a soldier cries.
An' I just wipe me eyes.
I fold it up an' put it in my shirt,
Pick up my gun an' get back to work.
An' it keeps me driving me on,
Waiting on letters from home.
Sung by John Michael Montgomery
