Far back’s I can remember
Either had to plow or hoe
One of those long ol’ nine feet sacks
Standin’ at the old turn row
Down in Mississippi
Down in Mississippi
Down in Mississippi where I was born
Down in Mississippi where I come from…
They had a huntin’ season on a rabbit
If you shoot him you went to jail
The season was always open on me:
Nobody needed no bail
Nothing I got ‘gainst Mississippi
It also was the home of my wife
But I count myself a lucky man
Just to get away with my life