Lenoir Far back's I can remember Either had to plow or hoe One of those long ol' nine feet sacks Standin' at the old turn row. Down in Mississippi. Down in Mississippi. Down in Mississippi where I was born Down in Mississippi where I come from... They had a huntin' season on a rabbit If you shoot him you went to jail. The season was always open on me: Nobody needed no bail. Nothing I got 'gainst Mississippi, It also was the home of my wife. But I count myself a lucky man Just to get away with my life.