About three miles from the Batelle yard
From the reverse curve on down
Not far south of the town depot
Sullivan's shack was found
Back on the higher ground.
You could see him every day
Just walking down the line
With his old brown sack across his back
And his long hair down behind
Speaking his worried mind.
cho: It's a long way to the delta
From the North Georgia hills
A tote sack full of ginseng
Won't pay no travelling bills
Now, I'm too old to ride the rails
Or thumb the road alone
D G D
So I guess I'll never make it back to home
D G A D
My muddy water Mississippi delta home.
The winters here, they get too cold
The damp it makes me ill
Can't dig no roots in the mountain side
With the ground froze hard and still
Gotta stay at the foot of the hill.
But next summer, things turn right
The companies will pay high
I'll make enough money to pay my bills
Bid these mountains goodbye
Then he said with a sigh:
Bo.Parker@msfc.nasa.gov (<- MAIL to this address.
REPLIES to this address will probably bounce.)
"And if one more person says to me, they can't stand the "twang," I think
I just might gingerly poke 'em in the eye. This is not like eating okra."