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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
John Michael Montgomery
John Michael Montgomery
Lead Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Tony Lane
Tony Lane
Songwriter
David Cory Lee
David Cory Lee
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
John Michael Montgomery
John Michael Montgomery
Producer
Byron Gallimore
Byron Gallimore
Producer
Erik Lutkins
Erik Lutkins
Assistant Mixing Engineer
John Kunz
John Kunz
Additional Engineer
Jason Gant
Jason Gant
Assistant Mixing Engineer
David Bryant
David Bryant
Assistant Recording Engineer
Julian King
Julian King
Recording Engineer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
My dearest son, it's almost June
I hope this letter catches up with you and finds you well
It's been dry but they're callin' for rain
And everything's the same ol' same in Johnsonville
Your stubborn old 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
[Verse 2]
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 and put it in my shirt
Pick up my gun and get back to work
And it keeps me drivin' on, waitin' on
Letters from home
[Verse 3]
My dearest love, it's almost dawn
I've been lyin' here all night long
Wonderin' 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 alright, I'm just missin' you
And this is me kissin' you
X's and O's in a letter from home
[Verse 4]
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 and put it in my shirt
Pick up my gun and get back to work
And it keeps me drivin' on, waitin' on
Letters from home
[Verse 5]
Dear son, I know I ain't written
I'm sittin' here tonight alone in the kitchen
It occurs to me I might not have said it, so I'll say it now
Son, you make me proud
[Verse 6]
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 nothin' funny
When a soldier cries, and I just wipe my eyes
I fold it up and put in my shirt
Pick up my gun and get back to work
And it keeps me drivin' on, waitin' on
Letters from home
Written by: David Lee, Tony Lane
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