One Row At A Time

The Southeast Georgia red clay dust is ground into my blue jeans

A heavy hundred-pound cotton sack 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 here and Waco

Then three days of thumbin' 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 brokens

Sunshine on snow white cotton, it nearly makes me blind

I can almost see them 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 thumbin' to that California line

Lord, Lord

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