Whiskey Myers Mud
Oh Lord won't you let me stay in the place where I was born
In the fields Granddaddy tilled and all my seeds are sown
Ain't no love for a poor dirt farmer, genuine son of the South
And the water's high and the bills are, too, and levy tumbling down
Daddy owed the banker man
We were drowning before the flood
And the river washed us all away
Left us right here in the mud
Yeah in the mud
We built this house in Baldwin, Mississippi back in 1879
And for a hundred years my family's been here barely scraping by
We just some good old country folk
Just trying to weather the storm
Papa's gonna pay when the interest rates got higher than the corn
Ain't no man gonna take it away
Six feet down in the blood
Still the crops they don't come alive
And you'll die, right here in the mud
Yeah in the mud
Who says you can't come from the sticks
Let me talk at 'em with my thirty aught six
A couple city guys with suits and ties
Bet they can't kill this frogman right between the eyes
I got no place to go and no place to run
Just a dirt farmer boy with his Granddaddy's gun
Step across that line, I'm gonna tell you son
We all gonna die right here in the mud, yeah in the mud
