Lyrics

Whit Hill whithill@gmail.com
615 712 7248

Perfectly Good Dirt

Growing up we didn't have much
Daddy did odd jobs and such.
But that man could garden with a capital G.
We'd pull up to some rented house
And all us kids would climb out
and we'd run around the back and we'd see
him talking with mama, pointing at the yard
Sayin' baby we can grow stuff here it won't be hard

Just til it up
Ain't bad at all
Get some coop seeds
And let em fall
Tamp 'em down
Give'em time
Add little bit of rain and southern sunshine
And this could work
'Cause this here's perfectly good dirt

I moved away when I could
Soon I was doing good
Got an apartment in NYC
Daddy rode up on a bus
Said I come to check out all this fuss
And we walked around for hours thru the city
And he stood in Central Park, his hat in his hand
And he said babe, I don't care where we are, this is good land.


Let's til it up
Ain't bad at all
Get some coop seeds
And let em fall
Tamp 'em down
Give'em time
Add a little bit of rain and northern sunshine
And this could work
'Cause this here's perfectly good dirt

He never made much money
He never owned a farm
But he grew the best tomatoes
The sweetest summer corn
And I stood over that black patch of earth
Right after he died
I could hear him saying
While I cried

Baby don't be sad
This ain't bad at all
I'm like a seed
And I'm growing tall
And I feel love
All the time
I'm in the rain and the southern sunshine

I filled my pockets
And I flew back north
put some buckets
Up on my roof
Planted coop seeds
And gave'em time
And a little bit of rain and God's own sunshine
And man, it worked
I grew tomatoes for the whole neighborhood
Of 2nd Avenue and 53rd
In Daddy's perfectly good dirt

Right here in NYC
You can grow stuff here
This dirt ain't bad at all
No, it's perfectly good