Every Friday evening about sundown
Old Black Jack Fletcher and Mississippi
There's those who turn their nose up
When we play our
Weatherman says, "It might hit 95
September's gonna feel more like
She likes to read her Bible, I like a good
I'm not one to whine or cry or wallow in
(Dan Colehour/Scooter Carusoe)
Old white washed barn doors
Rain rusted tin
Stra
I've been down the Mississippi, down through New Orleans
I've played
Sometimes I think what turned her on was my old
I told my mom goodbye when I was eighteen
She told
Everybody's talking saying this will never last
Trying to see the
I was born in a small town in the hills
Some kids grow up on mean streets
Dealing with the crypts
