Natchez Trace (by Chris Gauthier and Jeff Harris)

a church in mississippi used to stand before the town there were prayers for the cotton and it grew up from the ground but in the year of our lord nine hundred twenty one the steeple fell to sleep and the ground had turned to dust

the trees out in the cemetary are weeping spanish moss on a cross that keeps a vigil on the souls that were not lost and sometimes you can hear a distant rumble in the ground as the trains from cheyenne county pass this way without a sound right through the town

been down the devil's backbone i've been up on emerald mound been down on natchez trace how sweet the sound

at a dusty grand piano i go flipping through the pages cause its prayin to be sang to of course I ain't prayed for agesthere's a hymn from easter sunday left an echo in the raftersand the choirs singing with me but their voices fill with laughter

amazing grace, how sweet the sound

been down the devil's backbone i've been up on emerald mound been down on natchez trace how sweet been down the devil's backbone i've been up on emerald mound been down on natchez trace how sweet the sound