Half-Mile Rows
Words and music by Jake Brooks

They're only half-mile rows, son
And there's water at the end
Oh, Mama, how I long to be
In those cotton fields again

A man will make a living
Doing what he has to do
And Mama, that's just what you did
When he left it up to you 
You loved that old dirt farmer
A man I've never known
And alone you shared your wisdom
In those half-mile cotton rows

You talked of Corpus Christi
And the beach where you were raised
And the gulf stream's salty breezes
Almost touched my childhood face
I could hear those breakers crashing
Way up on the high dry plains
As we hoed those fields of cotton
Up one row, and down again

Repeat Chorus

Now I'm staring out my window
On the salty side of town
Stone fences in this city, Mama
They can get a farm boy down
And it's surprising how the neon lights
Can make those wild weeds grow
But I can work my way back home, Mama
It's just one more half-mile row

Repeat Chorus, tag

Copyright, Brooks Bros Publishers
All rights reserved