When the cotton takes its toll
On the Carolina soil
And your soul longs to go
Sing on, Yankee radio
Follow the sound down the red clay road

Your daddy's gone your bottle broke
Your mother sews to keep her home
Your brothers croon, but they will too
Die a bottle death, just as soon
You'll bury them deep in red clay grave

The wash is boiling in the ring
And you hear a lady sing
Lillie Rae, sweetly sways
While the old Victrola plays
Follow the sound down red clay road