Gone, Gonna Rise Again - Kathy Mattea

I remember the year that my granddad died

Gone, gonna rise again

They dug his grave on the mountainside

Gone, gonna rise again

I was too young to understand

The way he felt about the land

But I could read his history in his hands

Gone, gonna rise again

Corn in the crib and apples in the bin

Ham in the smokehouse and cotton in the gin

Cows in the barn and hogs in the lot

You know, he never had a lot

But he worked like a devil for the living he got

These apple trees on the mountainside

He planted the seeds just before he died

I guess he knew that he’d never see

The red fruit hanging from the tree

But he planted the seeds for his children and me

High on the ridge above the farm

I think of my people that have gone on

Like a tree that grows in the mountain ground

The storms of life have cut them down

But the new wood springs from the roots in the ground

Gone, gonna rise again

Gone, gonna rise again

Gone, gonna rise again