Our name's been on that mailbox
The last 100 years
We're the walking definition
Of blood, sweat and tears
You ask them who we are
They'll tell you mean and surly
We're the keepers of tradition
That Brightleaf and Burley

[Chorus]
We get low down
We get high as a kite
Lord I wish I may
Lord I wish I might
Be singing this song
When I hit the pearly gates
Greetings from Tobacco Town, USA
Greetings from Tobacco Town, USA

I've been wandering these roads
Since I was 3 years old
Watching the men I thought were gods
Turning green leafs into gold
Now the fields they all lay empty
Curing barns are growing cold
All the while another cash crop
Just begging to be sold