Mary, Mark and Luke and John,
all them prophets so good
and gone.
Keep your hand on that plow,
hold on.
Oh, Lord.
Oh, Lord.
Keep your hand on that plow,
hold on.
Well, I never been to heaven,
but I've been told
streets up there are lined
with gold.
Keep your hand on that plow,
hold on.
Oh, Lord.
Oh, Lord.
Keep your hand on that plow,
hold on.
Oh, Lord.
Oh, Lord.
Keep your hand on that plow,
hold on.
Oh, Lord.
Oh, Lord.
Keep your hand on that plow,
hold on.
Marco Giunco |
Work | Basket | Music | Words |