[chorus] in A Mississippi Cotton Pickin' Delta Town one Dusty Street To Walk Up And Down nothing Much To Do But Hang Around in A Mississippi Cotton Pickin' Delta Town
down In The Delta Where I Was Born all We Raised Was Cotton, Potatoes And Corn i've Picked Cotton 'til My Fingers Hurt draggin' A Sack Through The Delta Dirt i've Worked Hard The Whole Weeklong pickin' My Fingers To The Blood And Bone ain't A Lot Of Money In Cotton Bale at Least When You Try To Sell
[chorus]
on Saturday Night, We'd Get Dressed Up catch Us A Ride On A Pickup Truck on A Gravel Road That Nearly Strangled Us that Cotton Pickin' Delta Dust we'd Sit Across The Street On The Depot Porch lookin' At The Folks Lookin' Back At Us munchin' On A Dust Covered Ice Cream Cone wondering How We'd Get Back Home