I was talking to an oak tree

When the cypress butted in.

Out of car parts a raven

Made a nest inside my skin.

To understand me better

You all ought to follow me home.

I make a wish, I clean the fish, Lord!

That's why they call me Wash Jones.



I can scream like the cicada,

Gin the seed right out of the boll,

Ride the train to Memphis

Where there's cotton to be sold.

To understand me better

You all ought to follow me home.

I make a wish, I clean the fish, Lord!



I feel like driving but my car won't run.

I feel like plowing but my mules won't come.



I was lost down in the bottom,

I was cutting through the cane,

tied my team up 

to a rusty trace chain.

To understand me better

You all ought to follow me home.

I make a wish, I clean the fish, Lord!

That's why they call me Wash Jones.



That's why they call me Wash Jones.

That's why they call me Wash Jones

That's why they call me Wash Jones.