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All the girls all dance with the boys from the city
And they don´t care to dance with me
Now it ain´t my fault that the fields are muddy
And the red clay stains my feet

It´s under my nails and it´s under my collar
And it shows on my Sunday clothes
Though I do my best with the soap and the water
But the damned old dirt won´t go

But when I pass through the pearly gates
Will my gown be gold instead
Or just a red clay robe with red clay wings
And a red clay halo for my head

It´s mud in the spring and it´s dust in the summer
When it flows in crimson tide
´Til the trees and leaves and the cows are the colour
Of the dirt on the mountain side

Now Jordan´s banks they´re red and muddy
And the rollin´ water is wide
But I got no boat, so I´ll be good and muddy
When I get to the other side


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