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Jul 2015
I’m proud of where I call home
I live out where the crops are grown
where we can live, without a phone
and we can make it on our own
where you break a sweat, when you work
and you give all, just to make a buck
we ain’t afraid, to dig no ditch
out here we don’t, sit and *****
we jump on it quick, lend a hand
work on through, and get r done
But how much more, can we take
of the stealing, from our plate
we have given in, and given up
it’s like we just don’t, give a ****
but that won’t work, that won’t win
we got to see it, to the end
so stand up tall scream and shout
let the flag wave about
let em come on down my gravel road
and see the place I call home
where the white tail roam
where I'll make a stand
to defend this land
from dear old uncle sam
when his out stretched hand has finally overreached
I’ll lay’em out at my feet
Frederick Hart
Written by
Frederick Hart  Walstonburg
(Walstonburg)   
486
   Sara Murray
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