Down in the valley Where the Red River flows Standing at a graveside By the bramble and the rose We've come to bid a fond farewell In this our darkest hour We've gone and neglected Our pale wildwood flower So beat the drum slowly as they carry her away Wrapped in white linen as cold as the clay I see Tammy and Patsy with their long black dresses on Mourning the death of the American song Songs that haunt our memories Sung on porches long ago All that's left of them today Are footprints in the snow I'm waiting at the station But I fear I wait in vain 'Cause Old 97 Is rusting in the rain The radio is playing Got the latest top ten on The kind you hear today That you know tomorrow will be gone I see those painted faces They are smiling on TV And I find that they're all Rank strangers to me