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Kathy Mattea
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Gone, Gonna Rise Again
I remember the year that my granddad died,
Gone, gonna rise again.
They dug his grave on a mountain side,
Gone, gonna rise again.
I was too young to understand
The way he felt about the land,
But I could read his history in his hands,
Gone, gonna rise again.
There's corn in the crib and apples in the bin,
Gone, gonna rise again.
It's ham in the spook house and cotton in the gym,
Gone, gonna rise again.
It's cows in the barn and hearts in the line,
You know he never had a lot.
But he worked like the devil for the living he got,
Gone, gonna rise again.
These apple trees on the mountain side,
Gone, gonna rise again.
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He planted the seeds just before he died,
Gone, gonna rise again.
I guess he knew that he'll never see
Red fruit hanging from the trees,
But he planted the seeds for his children and me,
Gone, gonna rise again.
It's high on the ridge above the farm,
Gone, gonna rise again.
I think of my people who had gone on,
Gone, gonna rise again.
Like a tree that grows in the mountain ground,
Storms of life have cut him down,
But the new wood springs and the roots in the gal,
Gone, gonna rise again.
Gone, gonna rise again.
Gone, gonna rise again.
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