Kenny Chesney Fields Of Glory
Summer cotton, summer corn
Summer hash marks and a scoreboard
Summer, where they fought the civil war
It's what my grandpa said
Picking up brown heads that we found, or
Picking up another first down
Taking them girls to the edge of town
And watching the sky turn red
On a blanket in a Chevy bed
We grew up on 'em, stirred up dust on 'em
We were tough on 'em
With our cleats and our retread tires
We stayed out late on 'em
We went to state on 'em
Every blade of that sacred ground's got a thousand stories
Fields of glory
Fields of glory
Shooting cans off a tree stump
Cold beer buzzing with the June bugs
Setting 'round talking like we knew what
We were doing for the rest of our lives
We shine down lights on 'em
Threw three stripes on 'em
Said our goodbyes on 'em
Once September came around
We had it made on 'em
Part of us stayed on 'em
Every blade of that sacred ground's got a thousand stories
Fields of glory
Fields of glory
You drop by and see a barbed-wire fence
I see boys turning into men
I go back every now and then
And walk around and think of how
We grew up on 'em, stirred up dust on 'em
We were tough on 'em
With our cleats and our retread tires
We stayed out late on 'em
We went to state on 'em
Every blade of that sacred ground's got a thousand stories
Fields of glory
Fields of glory
Fields of glory
They were our fields of glory