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One Row at a Time

The Strangers
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The Southeast Georgia red clay dust is ground into my blue jeans A heavy hundred-pound cotton sack I'm draggin' long behind me 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 here and Waco Then three days of thumbing to that California line Then two more days of pickin' 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 this snow-white cotton nearly makes me blind I can almost see 'em now, the home folk runnin' 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, Lord, Lord Then two more days of pickin' 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