I was raised in the middle of the cotton belt, babe
But I ain't gonna stay
I'll lose my shape fast
Dragging cotton sacks and eating butter beans ever day

Yeah, I'm a sweet young thing
I just turned eighteen and I'm unhooking the latch
Cause I've got too much class for this cotton patch

I've been reading magazines on a once-a-week trip
To town on Saturday
And I've seen all pretty clothes
And had some rich men and I know that's for me

Papa's been trying to pair me up with Willie Bond
Whose daddy owns the cotton gin
Ha, I done checked Willie out two years ago
And Willie knows I'm too much for him

It's Monday morning
Four o'clock
Got my sack packed
And I'm out here where the freeway runs

Here comes a truck
I'm in luck
He's going straight through on a Dallas run
Yeah, I am heading for big D a
Ad I know that's place for me to really make a catch
Well, finally
I'm a gettin' my class out of this cotton patch
I arrived in style aboard that big semi
And I felt mighty high
Waltzing into the best department store
For employment to suit my style
And I was doin' pretty good
Till some wisecracker came on the scene
He called me a ripe tomato
But he said I sure look green

I tried ever door to ever store in town
But my luck had run down
It seemed nobody 'round Dallas
Could recognize the class I'd brought to town
And after all day of looking
Would you believe
The only job I could land was in a dog food factory
Sticking labels on dog food cans

Dear, Mama
How are you?
Pop and kids
Hope you're doing okay
Me, I never did find a better job
And all the rich men got away

Mama I've been thinking
Pretty soon you know I'll be nineteen
And I sure learned a lot about class fast
Mama, know what I mean
Mama, if you'd ask Papa if he'd spare a few dollars
I'd catch the next Greyhound coming home
And I tell you if Willie Bond ain't committed yet
I'd be willin' to give it a try
After all it's been two years
Just tell papa
Money