MISSISSIPPI MADE

Don’t know the feeling of seeing the grass grow green

Grew up learning crooked letters, humpbacks, and umpteen

Not a typical childhood even seen the clouds sing the Blues

On dirt roads bare feet, any day, everyone ran out of shoes

Summertime heat burned as it reflected off Trailer park tin

Family history is rich but distorted when everyone kissing kin

To look out in all fields and see yellow corn and white cotton

Spirit of Dixie lives, constant reminder racism is not forgotten

This was home, despite the fact it was labeled shotgun or shack

No front porch to clean the fish simply drop the tailgate out back

Wiping dust from the face, still need the Box fans to sit inside

Drinking sweet tea with extra sugar and everything is southern fried

Neighbors are known by more than name, just watch the walks
Country drawl, it’s not slang, slow enough to understand who talks

From Delta flats along the river, down to the swamps and piney hills

Beautiful sunshine fighting mosquitoes with no chance of snow to chill

If the truth be told, this place would be gold; it’s enough to go around

In bed early to get on the square after hearing, We Going to town..