Mississippi cotton pickin' delta town,
Nothin' much to see but a starry town,
Mississippi cotton pickin' delta town.
Down in the delta where I was born
All we raised was cotton,
I've picked cotton till my fingers hurt
Dragging a sack through that delta dirt
Picking my fingers to the blood and bone
There ain't a lot of money in a cotton band,
at least when you try to sell.
Mississippi cotton pickin' delta town,
one dusty street to walk up and down.
Nothin' much to see but a star and a pound,
Mississippi cotton pickin' delta town.
Saturday nights, we'd get dressed up,
catch us a ride on a pickup truck, on a gravel road,
We'd sit across the street on the depot porch,
lookin' at the folks lookin' back at us,
Bunchin' on a dust -covered
Wondering how we get back home
Mississippi cotton -pickin'
Nothin' much to do but just hang around
Mississippi cotton -pickin'
Mississippi cotton -pickin'
One dusty street to walk up and down
Nothin' much to do but just hang around
Mississippi cotton pickin' delta town
