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                    D 
 Your stuborn old daddy ain't said too much, 
                          Bm 
But I'm sure you know he sends his love, 
             Esus E                    A 
And she goes on,     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                            F#m 
Like there's somethin funny bout 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, 
 
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                     D 
  But I'll be alright I'm just missin you, 
                Bm                 Esus E 
And this is me kissin you, X's and 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                      F#m 
Cause she calls me honey but they 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                                             A 
But sittin here tonight alone in the kitchen it occurs to me, 
   E                             F#m 
I might not have said it so I'll say 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 
                                   A 
and our boots ain't muddy, but no one laughs, 
             E                         F#m 
Cause there ain't nothin funny when 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               A 
Waitin on,          Letters from home,