Band Of The Grenadiers - King Cotton lyrics

rate me

Pick the cotton and pick the cotton and pick the cotton some more!

You're pickin' cotton until you drop

You're never getting' away

You'd rather be in a coffee shop

With fish and chips on your tray.

You're bendin' down

Your back is broke

Your fingers ache and

Your feet are smokin'

Your head is numb

Your legs are gone

And you've got nothing to say

You're pickin' cotton the whole day through

Until the evening is done

You'll never get a vacation or a getaway for some fun

You grind your knees into the dirt

You rip your pants and you tear your shirt

But you can't complain, your back's in pain

And you get nothin' for pay

'Cause that sonavabitch will never let you

Take a break at all,

You'll never get any food

Or water, juice or alcohol

So pick your cotton, boy. This rotten

Day has just begun, and you will

Not be done with pickin' till it's

Later in the Fall

I'm tellin' you what my life is like

So listen up my friend

My mother is holding up all right

Although her back don't bend

We pick all day, we pick all night

And when the day is over we can

Grab a little nap and then we do it all again.

TRIO

You'll never guess how much I really love this job,

So, I'm giving you fair warning

I love the foreman who can make my mother sob

While cotton pickin' in the morning.

You see that bastard with the whip? His name is "Bob".

Woke me up at five this morning,

You'll never know how much I'd love to stab that slob

And spread his guts to rot 'til dawning

DOGFIGHT

You've got to

Bend down, open a boll

Pick out the fluff, bag it!

If your bag's getting' full

Harder to pull, drag it!

Fill the bag my friend

Fill it once again

Do it till your fingers bleed, boy!

TRIO (REPRISE)

You'll never know how much I love plantation life,

Full of sweet perfume and romance;

You'll never know how much I'd like to use Bob's knife

To separate him from his gonads.