In a Mississippi cotton pickin Delta town one dusty street to walk up and down Nothin much to see but a starvin hound in a Mississippi cotton pickin Delta town Down in the Delta where I was born all we raised was cotton potatoes and corn Ive picked cotton till my fingers hurt draggin the sack through that Delta dirt And Ive worked hard the whole week long pickin my fingers to the blood and bone There aint a lot of money in a cotton bale at least when you try to sell In a Mississippi cotton pickin... On Saturday nights wed get dressed up catch us a ride on a pickup truck On a gravel road it nearly string to lust that cotton pickin Delta dust Wed sit across the street on the depot porch lookin at the folks lookin back at us Munchin on a dust covered ice cream cone and wondering how wed get back home From a Mississippi cotton pickin... From a Mississippi cotton pickin...You might also like
cotton, pickin, delta, mississippi, wed