I guess there was a time I could have left this old place As a young man I longed to see more than fields of corn I remember once I had a hundred dollars saved But dad needed it to put in this old farm. He used to say son you got to put down roots Just like I done and the Kelly's before me He'd pick up a handful of that wore out dirty And I knowed I was in for this familiar old story. You know that forty acres we got in corn this year Your great grand daddy cleared that land With two big mules and sweat and tears And a good woman who lent him a hand. And when he give out before his time Them boys of his hand land of their own So you see all of this that I call mine Is more in the neighborhood of just a loan. From father to son through a hundred years For generations still unknown Every Kelly passin' through this way Will know this place as home. Yet dad had a way of tellin' that story Sorta kept me a-lingerin' on While all my younger brothers drifted away one by one But I couldn't leave him alone. And today when that oldest son of mine Got to talkin' about places he longed to see I told him once again that old familiar story Just the way it was told to me. From father to son through a hundred years For generations still unknown Every Kelly passin' through this way Will know this place as home...