Lyrics

When I was just my poppa's son He would beat me in the head with the butt of a gun It was just about a mile or so Down from where the corncobs grow 'Cause when the cotton bolls get rotten You can't pick a whole lot of cotton When I was a lad I polished my wood Poppa caught me in the barn, he whupped me good Well that was down in Louisiana Just about a mile from Texarkana Poppa got himself run down by a train I shot him in the gut to end his pain 'Cause when them cotton bolls get rotten Certain things get left forgotten Back down home I didn't get much meat to eat But the good ol' boys always got me to beat When I was just my poppa's son He would beat me in my noggin with the butt of a gun (He won't do that no more)