Letters From Home

(capo 3rd fret)


INtro - A




(verse 1)
A
My dearest son it's almost June,

I hope this letter catches up with 
you,
    D
And finds you well,
A
It's been dry but they're callin for
 rain,

Everything's the same ol' same,
   D
In Johnsonville,



(bridge)
F#m                E             
 Your stuborn old daddy ain't 
       D
said too much,
                          Bm
But I'm sure you know he sends his 
love,
             Esus E            
And she goes on,     in a letter 
        A
from home,



(chorus)
D
I hold it up and show my buddy's 
like we ain't scared
                                A
and our boots ain't muddy, And they 
all laugh,
             E                     
Like there's somethin funny bout 
       F#m
the way I talk,
                           D
When I say mama sends her best 
ya'll,
   D
I fold it up and put it in my shirt,

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Pick up my gun and get back to work,
A        E             F#m
 And it keeps me drivin on,
        D - E               A
Waitin on,    Letters from home,



(verse 2)
A
My dearest love it's almost dawn,

I've been lyin here all night long,
        D
Wonderin where you might be,
A
I saw your mama and I showed her the
 ring,

Man on the television said 
something,
D
So I couldn't sleep,


(bridge)
F#m             E           
  But I'll be alright I'm just 
          D
missin you,
                Bm                 
And this is me kissin you, X's and 
Esus E
O's,
                  A
In a letter from home,



(chorus)
D
I hold it up and show my buddy's 
like we ain't scared
                               A
and our boots ain't muddy, And they 
all laugh,
           E                      
Cause she calls me honey but they 
F#m
take it hard,
                         D
Cause I don't read the good part,
   D
I fold it up and put it in my shirt,

Pick up my gun and get back to work,
A        E             F#m
 And it keeps me drivin on,
        D - E               A
Waitin on,    Letters from home,




(bridge)
D
Dear son I know I ain't written,
    D                              
But sittin here tonight alone in 
               A
the kitchen it occurs to me,
   E                             
I might not have said it so I'll say
F#m
 it now,
                  D - E - D
Son you make me proud,




(chorus)
D
I hold it up and show my buddy's 
like we ain't scared
and our boots ain't muddy, but no 
 A
one laughs,
             E                     
Cause there ain't nothin funny when
    F#m
 a soldier cries,
             D
And I just wipe my eyes,
 D
I fold it up and put it in my shirt,

Pick up my gun and get back to work,
A        E             F#m
 And it keeps me drivin on,
        D - Esus - E            
Waitin on,          Letters from 
   A
home,