*set to the tune of 'My Old Kentucky Home'*
his hat rests on the plow
like the halo he must have now
after meeting the River Jordan
2 years ago
his old Kentucky home
a ramshackle cabin and land as far as the eye could roam
where tobacco was king now
and the good book the only tome
others would not see
that faithful 'ol' darky' in Luther Dupree
who did work the flesh of fingers off to the bone
to feed the real landowner and his family of three
the sun must've pitied him
but it kept on burning his skin
and this hat was his only friend out in the patches
that and the quiet anger burning within
Luther only lived half his life as a slave
and it was out in the fields he dropped when his heart caved
there will be no songs for sweet chariots again here
such is a poor sharecropper's grave.
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