Far backs I can remember Either had to plow or hoe One of those long ol nine feet sacks Standin at the old turn row. Down in Mississippi. Down in Mississippi. Down in Mississippi where I was born Down in Mississippi where I come from... They had a huntin season on a rabbit If you shoot him you went to jail. The season was always open on me: Nobody needed no bail. Nothing I got gainst Mississippi, It also was the home of my wife. But I count myself a lucky man Just to get away with my life.