Lyrics:

[chorus]**lf**in A Mississippi Cotton Pickin&ampapos; Delta Town**lf**one Dusty Street To Walk Up And Down**lf**nothing Much To Do But Hang Around**lf**in A Mississippi Cotton Pickin&ampapos; Delta Town**lf****lf**down In The Delta Where I Was Born**lf**all We Raised Was Cotton, Potatoes And Corn**lf**i&ampapos;ve Picked Cotton &ampapos;til My Fingers Hurt**lf**draggin&ampapos; A Sack Through The Delta Dirt**lf**i&ampapos;ve Worked Hard The Whole Weeklong**lf**pickin&ampapos; My Fingers To The Blood And Bone**lf**ain&ampapos;t A Lot Of Money In Cotton Bale**lf**at Least When You Try To Sell**lf****lf**[chorus]**lf****lf**on Saturday Night, We&ampapos;d Get Dressed Up**lf**catch Us A Ride On A Pickup Truck**lf**on A Gravel Road That Nearly Strangled Us**lf**that Cotton Pickin&ampapos; Delta Dust**lf**we&ampapos;d Sit Across The Street On The Depot Porch**lf**lookin&ampapos; At The Folks Lookin&ampapos; Back At Us**lf**munchin&ampapos; On A Dust Covered Ice Cream Cone**lf**wondering How We&ampapos;d Get Back Home**lf****lf**[chorus]