8 Miles South of Kennan

Born 300 miles south
They could of put some money down
On a home that would keep them warm
Dress her in silk, not a flannel nightgown
But up in the northwoods
There's not much picking
The waters always cold
And the outhouse paint is chipping
His hands are calloused
His cuts cracked open
His fingers are yellowed
From the Prince Albert's he's been smoking
His name is stenciled
On the milk truck he's been driving
And he prays that the life he leads
Isn't his only way of surviving
She raises eight kids
The cancers growing
She slaves in the fields all day
These aren't the dreams she spent a childhood sowing
She went to school to teach
A one room schoolhouse and a cotton dress
But now her gingham is dusty and torn
There's no dreams left to impress

Poor and beautiful
I hope that you still know
I did the best I could
I wasn't the perfect man
But I'd love you anyway I can
I hope you know it's true
I hope you know it's true

She milks the cows today
Her stockings falling
The soles of her shoes are worn
And her tears, they just keep dropping
He left before the dawn
The kids still sleeping sound
And he'll come home tonight
With the moonlight shining on the ground
She keeps getting sicker
But she keeps fighting
She can't slow down for death
Cause the cradle is still rocking
But the day, it finally comes
When even gods succumb
And she leaves the farm for good
She leaves the farm for good


The pines are blowing
The roof is leaking
The snow is coming down tonight
And he can't help but sit there drinking
His coffee from a tan mug
Peppermints and a splash of bourbon
She's been gone since June
Sent away in a brand new dress of gingham


Poor and beautiful
I hope that you still know
I did the best I could
I wasn't the perfect man
But I'd love you anyway I can
I hope you know it's true
I hope you know it's true