Mississippi Cotton Picking Delta Town

D  A7
In a Mississippi cotton picking delta town, 
D 
One dusty street to walk up and down, 
G
Nothing much to see but a starving hound 
A7  D  
In a Mississippi cotton picking delta town. 
 
D  A7 
Down in the delta where I was born, 
D 
All we raised was cotton, potatoes and corn,  
G 
I’ve picked cotton till my fingers hurt, 
A7  D 
Dragging that sack thru that delta dirt. 
 
D  A7 
And I’ve worked hard the whole week long, 
D 
Picking my fingers to the blood and bone, 
G 
There ain’t a lot of money in a cotton bale, 
A7  D 
At least not when you’re trying to sell.  
 
D  A7 
In a Mississippi cotton picking delta town, 
D 
One dusty street to walk up and down, 
G 
Nothing much to see but a starving hound 
A7  D  
In a Mississippi cotton picking delta town. 
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On Saturday nights w’ed get dressed up, 
D 
Catch us a drive on a pickup truck, 
G 
On a gravel road it nearly strangled us, 
A7 
That cotton picking delta dust. 
 
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We’d sit across the street on the depot porch, 
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Looking at the folks looking back at us, 
G 
Munching on a dust covered ice cream cone, 
A7  D 
And wondering how we’d get back home. 
 
D  A7 
In a Mississippi cotton picking delta town, 
D 
One dusty street to walk up and down, 
G 
Nothing much to see but a starving hound 
A7  D  
In a Mississippi cotton picking delta town.