Thursday
When I was a little bitty baby
My mama would rock me in the cradle,
In them old cotton fields back home;
It was down in Louisiana,
Just about a mile from Texarkana,
In them old cotton fields back home.
Oh, when them cotton bolls get rotten
You can't pick very much cotton,
In them old cotton fields back home.
It was down in Louisiana,
Just about a mile from Texarkana,
In them old cotton fields back home.
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