This Town Ain’t Done

Daddy gave Butler thirty-two years, Had a knack for makin’ things work ’round here. When the work went away, it sure hit hard— But it couldn’t take the know-how or the heart. Now folks talk ’bout town like its best days passed, Like the future’s buried underneath the past. But a kid rides his bike past a boarded-up door— He ain’t lived the days we’re fightin’ for.

This town ain’t done, neither are we. There’s more to us than what used to be. Get right with God, do right by folks, Put a little backbone underneath that hope. Keep your word. Pull your weight. Make some room. Set another plate. Galesburg, we’ve got work to do— This town ain’t done, and neither are you.

Christmas on Losey, a house full of cheer, Granny’s on Ohio, “Come on in here.” We couldn’t fix every hurt we felt, But somebody listened, somebody helped. Now there’s a boy needs taught, an old man knows— Put ’em at a workbench, see where it goes. Let the boy turn the wrench till he gets it right; Give ’em both a reason to smile that night.

This town ain’t done, neither are we. There’s more to us than what used to be. Get right with God, do right by folks, Put a little backbone underneath that hope. Keep your word. Pull your weight. Make some room. Set another plate. Galesburg, we’ve got work to do— This town ain’t done, and neither are you.

If we’re payin’ the bill, lay the numbers out. Give us plain answers we can talk about. If it ain’t workin’, let’s find out why; Don’t paint over rust and call it fine. We can disagree and still shake hands, Hear each other out, make a better plan. Before we point to what others oughta do, There’s weeds in our own yards need pullin’ too.

God still meets us where we are, In kitchens, churches, factory yards. His grace gives us a place to start, To mend a fence, to change a heart. Lord, lead us as we work this ground— Help us raise our kids and build this town.

This town ain’t done, neither are we. There’s more to us than what used to be. Get right with God, do right by folks, Put a little backbone underneath that hope. Keep your word. Pull your weight. Make some room. Set another plate. Galesburg, we’ve got work to do— This town ain’t done, and neither are you.

That kid rolls up, lays his bicycle down, Says, “Can I help you turn this thing around?” Hand him some gloves, make room for one more— That’s the future we’re workin’ for.

This town ain’t done. Neither are you.