People Like Us
By John Allen Latta © 2008 (BMI) 
 

One afternoon, many years ago,
My Daddy sat me by his side,
In our old farm truck,
He scruffed my hair,
Said “Boy let’s take a ride.”
We drove all through our little town,
While Daddy talked to me;
And he told me all about,
Our family’s long, long history:

That bank’s where your great-great,

Grandpa got the money for our farm.

That church is where six generations,

Of us learned right from wrong.
And that country there, that stretches,

Farther than the eye can see;

Is our land, that’s right it all belongs,

To folks like you and me, ‘cause:

(Chorus)
People like us,
Built this country from a dream;
People like us,
Ain’t afraid to fight to keep it free,
People like us,
When the chips are down,
You’re gonna see that this old world,
Can never, ever, have enough...
People like us.  

The next morning Daddy left us,
To go off and fight the war,
To this day sometimes I look for him,
When I’m standing at my door.
Those words he said stuck with me
And now, I’m telling you:
Looking down your nose at folks like me,
Is the wrong damn thing to do! ‘Cause:

(Chorus)

(Bridge)
We’re working on the farms,
And in the factories,
Wearing steel toe boots to sneakers...
And everything in between!

(Chorus)
 People like us,
Built this country from a dream;
People like us,
Ain’t afraid to fight to keep it free,
People like us,
When the chips are down,
You’re gonna see that this old world,
Can never, ever, have enough...
People like us

(adlib to end)