Choppin' Cotton

Go choppin' cotton, go, go!
Run for your life,
Cotton-eyed Joe. 

The Lynch Man's gonna git ya. 
Down by the glen. 
So run, run,
As fast as you can. 

That white girl's been soiled,
And yer to blame. 
That white boy that dun it,
Just got the cane. 

So run, run--run for your life. 
Leave your family,
Leave your wife. 

Runnin's the only way,
To get from under,
The massa’s wrath,
That’s put your life asunder.

Go north by the river,
Not by the road.
Or the dogs'll git ya. 
Like a trapped toad. 

Cross the river often,
To lose your scent. 
 Head for Chicago,
As though Hell bent. 

You'll find work there,
And another life. 
Don't come back lookin'
For yer kids and yer wife. 

And when they ask you,
Who dun got you out. 
Say it was a white man dun it,
And he was from the South.


Copyright 2002 ©
Ronald W. Hull



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