Leased twenty acres
And one hinny mule
From the Alabama Trust

Half of cotton, third of corn
Get a hand full of dust


We cannot have all things pleasin'
No matter how we try
Until we've all gone to Jesus

We can only wonder why

I had a daughter

Called her Annabelle
She's the apple of my eye
Tried to give her something like I never had

Didn't want to ever hear her cry

We cannot have all things pleasing

No matter how we try
Until we've all gone to Jesus
We can only wonder why


When I'm dead and buried
I'll take a hard life of tears

Every day I've ever known
Anna's in the churchyard
She's got no life at all

She only got these words on stone:

We cannot have all things pleasing

No matter how we try
Until we've all gone to Jesus
We can only wonder why