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Everybody in my senior class |
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Got the hell out just as fast as they could go |
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And pretty soon that Greyhound bus |
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It only left a few of us to carry on |
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It might've been the family farm |
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Or Sherry Johnson's loving arms |
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Something wouldn't let me leave |
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Something made me believe in |
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A little house, a piece of land |
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Making things grow with my own two hands |
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Coming home weary to the bone at the end of the day |
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Country stores, beat up Fords |
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And songs with only two or three chords |
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Somehow I think I fell in love with this Mississippi mud |
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This friend went to Birmingham |
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And he's a State's Farm Insurance man |
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And makes a hundred thou |
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He calls me every now and then |
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Keeps saying he can cut me in |
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But it's too late now |
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Cause I've seen so much Delta rain |
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It must've seapt into my vains |
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Been here long enough to see |
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One thing for a man like me is |
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A little house, a piece of land |
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Making things grow with my own two hands |
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Coming home weary to the bone at the end of the day |
|
Country stores, beat up Fords |
|
And songs with only two or three chords |
|
Somehow I think I fell in love with this Mississippi mud |
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Hang around here long enough |
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It'll get into your blood |
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Comes up like a cotton seed |
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Before to long all you need is |
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A little house, a piece of land |
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Making things grow with my own two hands |
|
Coming home weary to the bone at the end of the day |
|
Country stores, beat up Fords |
|
And songs with only two or three chords |
|
Somehow I think I fell in love with this Mississippi mud |
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With this Mississippi mud |
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Oooh, I think I fell in love with this Mississippi mud |
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With this Mississippi mud |
