Everybody in my senior class

Got the hell out just as fast as they could go

And pretty soon that Greyhound bus

It only left a few of us to carry on

It might've been the family farm

Or Sherry Johnson's loving arms

Something wouldn't let me leave

Something made me believe in



A little house, a piece of land

Making things grow with my own two hands

Coming home weary to the bone at the end of the day

Country stores, beat up Fords

And songs with only two or three chords

Somehow I think I fell in love with this Mississippi mud



This friend went to Birmingham

And he's a State's Farm Insurance man

And makes a hundred thou

He calls me every now and then

Keeps saying he can cut me in

But it's too late now

Cause I've seen so much Delta rain

It must've seapt into my vains

Been here long enough to see

One thing for a man like me is



A little house, a piece of land

Making things grow with my own two hands

Coming home weary to the bone at the end of the day

Country stores, beat up Fords

And songs with only two or three chords

Somehow I think I fell in love with this Mississippi mud



Hang around here long enough

It'll get into your blood

Comes up like a cotton seed

Before to long all you need is



A little house, a piece of land

Making things grow with my own two hands

Coming home weary to the bone at the end of the day

Country stores, beat up Fords

And songs with only two or three chords

Somehow I think I fell in love with this Mississippi mud



With this Mississippi mud



Oooh, I think I fell in love with this Mississippi mud

With this Mississippi mud