I was born and raised down in Alabama |
On a farm way back up in the woods |
I was so ragged that folks used to call me Patches |
Papa used to tease me about it |
‘Cause deep down inside he was hurt |
‘Cause he’d done all he could |
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My papa was a great old man |
I can see him with a shovel in his hands, see |
Education he never had |
He did wonders when the times got bad |
The little money from the crops he raised |
Barely paid the bills we made |
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For, life had kicked him down to the ground |
When he tried to get up |
Life would kick him back down |
One day Papa called me to his dyin’ bed |
Put his hands on my shoulders |
And in his tears he said |
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He said, “Patches |
I’m dependin’ on you, son |
To pull the family through |
My son, it’s all left up to you” |
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Two days later Papa passed away, and |
I became a man that day |
So I told Mama I was gonna quit school, but |
She said that was Daddy’s strictest rule |
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So ev’ry mornin’ ‘fore I went to school |
I fed the chickens and I chopped wood too |
Sometimes I felt that I couldn’t go on |
I wanted to leave, just run away from home |
But I would remember what my daddy said |
With tears in his eyes on his dyin’ bed |
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He said, “Patches |
I’m dependin’ on you, son |
I tried to do my best |
It’s up to you to do the rest” |
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Then one day a strong rain came |
And washed all the crops away |
And at the age of 13 I thought |
I was carryin’ the weight of the |
Whole world on my shoulders |
And you know, Mama knew |
What I was goin’ through, ’cause |
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Every day I had to work the fields |
‘Cause that’s the only way we got our meals |
You see, I was the oldest of the family |
And everybody else depended on me |
Every night I heard my Mama pray |
“Lord, give him the strength to face another day” |
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So years have passed and all the kids are grown |
The angels took Mama to a brand new home |
Lord knows, people, I shedded tears |
But my daddy’s voice kept me through the years |
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Sing |
“Patches, I’m dependin’ on you, son |
To pull the family through |
My son, it’s all left up to you” |
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Oh, I can still hear Papa’s voice sayin’ |
“Patches, I’m dependin’ on you, son |
I’ve tried to do my best |
It’s up to you to do the rest” |
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I can still hear Papa, what he said |
“Patches…” |
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Performed by: Clarence Carter |
Written by: Ronald Dunbar and Norman Johnson |
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