Mississippi Cotton Pickinâ Delta Town
(Chorus)
In a Mississippi cotton pickinâ delta town
One dusty street to walk up and down
Nothing much to do but hang around
In a Mississippi cotton pickinâ delta town
Down in the delta where I was born
All we raised was cotton, potatoes and corn
IâÂÂve picked cotton âÂÂtil my fingers hurt
Dragginâ a sack through the delta dirt
IâÂÂve worked hard the whole weeklong
Pickinâ my fingers to the blood and bone
AinâÂÂt a lot of money in cotton bale
At least when you try to sell
(Repeat chorus)
On Saturday night, weâÂÂd get dressed up
Catch us a ride on a pickup truck
On a gravel road that nearly strangled us
That cotton pickinâ delta dust
WeâÂÂd sit across the street on the depot porch
Lookinâ at the folks lookinâ back at us
Munchinâ on a dust covered ice cream cone
Wondering how weâÂÂd get back home
(Repeat chorus)