Dusty Delta Memories

DUSTY DELTA MEMORIES

Writer Damon Black



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