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My Dear Son, it
is almost June,
I hope this
letter catches
up to you, and
finds you well.
Its been dry but
they’re calling
for rain,
And everything's
the same ol’
same in
Johnsonville.
Your stubborn 'ol
Daddy ain’t said
too much,
But I’m sure you
know he sends
his love,
And she goes on,
In a letter from
home.
I hold it up and
show my buddies,
Like we ain’t
scared and our
boots ain’t
muddy,
and they all
laugh,
Like there’s
something funny
bout’ the way I
talk,
When I say:
"Mama sends her
best y’all."
I fold it up an'
put it in my
shirt,
Pick up my gun
an' get back to
work.
An' it keeps me
driving on,
Waiting on
letters from
home.
My Dearest Love,
its almost dawn.
I’ve been lying
here all night
long wondering
where you might
be.
I saw your Mama
and I showed her
the ring.
Man on the
television said
something
so I couldn’t
sleep.
But I’ll be all
right, I’m just
missing you.
An' this is me
kissing you:
XX’s and OO’s,
In a letter from
home.
I hold it up and
show my buddies,
Like we ain’t
scared and our
boots ain’t
muddy,
and they all
laugh,
'Cause she calls
me "Honey", but
they take it
hard,
'Cause I don’t
read the good
parts.
I fold it up an'
put it in my
shirt,
Pick up my gun
an' get back to
work.
An' it keeps me
driving on,
Waiting on
letters from
home.
Dear Son, I know
I ain’t written,
But sittin' here
tonight, alone
in the kitchen,
it occurs to me,
I might not have
said, so I’ll
say it now:
Son, you make me
proud.
I hold it up and
show my buddies,
Like we ain’t
scared and our
boots ain’t
muddy,
but no one
laughs,
'Cause there
ain’t nothing
funny when a
soldier cries.
An' I just wipe
my eyes.
I fold it up an'
put it in my
shirt,
Pick up my gun
an' get back to
work.
An' it keeps me
driving on,
Waiting on
letters from
home.
Letters From
Home
by
John Michael
Montgomery
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