In a Mississippi cotton pickin' Delta town
One dusty street to walk up and down
Nothin' much to see but a starvin' hound
In a Mississippi cotton pickin' Delta townDown in the Delta where I was born
All we raised was cotton, potatoes and corn
I've picked cotton till my fingers hurt
Draggin' the sack through that Delta dirtAnd I've worked hard the whole week long
Pickin' my fingers to the blood and bone
There ain't a lot of money in a cotton bale
At least when you try to sellIn a Mississippi cotton pickin' Delta town
One dusty street to walk up and down
Nothin' much to see but a starvin' hound
In a Mississippi cotton pickin' Delta townOn Saturday nights we'd get dressed up
Catch us a ride on a pickup truck
On a gravel road, it nearly strangled us
That cotton pickin' Delta dustWe'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 homeFrom a Mississippi cotton pickin' Delta town
One dusty street to walk up and down
Nothin' much to do but just hang around
In a Mississippi cotton pickin' Delta townFrom a Mississippi cotton pickin' Delta town
One dusty street to walk up and down
Nothin' much to do but just hang around
In a Mississippi cotton pickin' Delta town
Songwriters
Harold Dorman;George GannPublished by
UNIVERSAL-SONGS OF POLYGRAM INTERNATIONAL, INC. Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.