The southeast Georgia red clay dust is grounded to my blue jeans
A heavy hundred-pound cotton sack dragging along behind
Wanting to leave this place so bad, I forget how I got here
Working my way back home one row at a time
It's a long old cotton road between here and Waco
Then three days a-thumbing through that California line
And two more days of picking to that house just south of Fresno
Working my way back home one row at a time
Mississippi Delta mud is caked in layers on my brogans
Sunshine on snow white cotton nearly makes me blind
I can almost see 'em now, the home folk running out to meet me
Working my way back home one row at a time
It's a long old cotton road between here and Waco
Then three days a-thumbing through that California line, Lord, Lord
Two more days of picking to that house just south of Fresno
Working my way back home one row at a time
Working my way back home one row at a time
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