The Southeast Georgia red clay dust is ground into my blue jeans
A heavy hundred pound cotton sack I'm dragging long 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 row
Between the hills and the meadows

Working here in Waco
Then three days of thumbing To that California line
Then 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
Music
Music
Music
Music
Music



Now I can almost see him 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 row Between here and Waco
Then three days of thumbing To that California line



California line, Lord, Lord
Two more days of picking
To that house just south of Fresno
Working my way back home
One road at a time
Working my way back home
One road at a time