It was seven in the morning
And already it was eighty-five degrees
Mama said she bet that it would reach a hundred
Cause there wasn't any breeze
Papa had a cotton sack headed for a field
We did not own little brother was crying
Cause papa said we had to come along
Old shep came off the front porch his bristles
Raised and ready for a fight mama told some bill collector
Better stay outside the gate that dog'll bite i
Remember us all laughing as he drove away old
Shep just layed back down it was a dusty july morning
In a mississippi delta cotton town
Dusty delta memories cotton fields
Blowing on my mind dusty delta memories
Them bring on teardrops take me back home
Kind now i pick those days like roses everytime
A july morning comes along and my memeory
Takes a shortcut right back down that gravel
Road i walked upon when i'm falling short of happiness
I always turn the tables of my mind to the corner of a cotton field
And a weather beaten shack of rough cut pine