Mississippi Cotton Pickin` Delta Town

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