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Album: Miscellaneous (2008)
Artists: John Michael Montgomery

  1. A Few Cents Short
  2. A Great Memory
  3. A Great Memory
  4. Ain't Got Nothin' On Us
  5. Ain't Got Nothin' On Us
  6. All In My Heart
  7. Angel In My Eyes
  8. Be My Baby Tonight
  9. Beer And Bones
  10. Brand New Me
  11. Bus To Birmingham
  12. Cloud 8
  13. Cover You In Kisses
  14. Cowboy Love
  15. Dream On Texas Ladies
  16. Four-Wheel Drive
  17. I Can Love You Like That
  18. I Can Prove You Wrong
  19. I Couldn't Dream
  20. I Swear
  21. It Rocked
  22. Kick It Up
  23. Letters From Home
  24. Life's A Dance (1993)
  25. Nothing Catches Jesus By Surprise
  26. Nothing Catches Jesus By Surprise
  27. Oh How She Shines
  28. Paint The Town Redneck
  29. She Don't Need A Band To Dance
  30. Taking Off The Edge
  31. The Little Girl
  32. Til Nothing Comes Between Us


John Michael Montgomery
Miscellaneous
Letters From Home
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 me 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 me 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 me 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 me on,
Waiting on letters from home.
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