Parchman Farm

I got no hat to shade my head

and a tow-sack left to fill

There’s a man in shades a-watchin’ me

and forty years to kill

The cotton boles have bled me

til my fingers cannot bend

and that tow-sack never fills

so them fingers cannot mend

I got a mind to make a break

I got a mind to run

but that man in shades a-watchin’ me

is cradlin’ a gun.

The delta ain’t no place for me

there ain’t a hill in sight

nor tree, nor friend, nor happy end

just forty years or life.

So spend your nights at home, boys

keep your woman in your bed

Cause if you stay, then she won’t stray

and you won’t shoot her dead.

Forty years in Parchman left

for shooting down my wife

jealousy and whiskey’s earned me

forty years or life.