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Country Mud
words and music by Matt Abell
©2004 All rights reserved
 

Mama won’t pack her clothes
though the river on the rise
gonna swallow up her home
She don’t wanna come down
from her second-story room
She’s waitin’ for to drown
‘cause Mrs. Washington
seen the Mr. washed away
by the Mississippi overrun
Yesterday the flood
left a chocolate stain behind
her children covered in the M’sippi mud

Born among the river people
You’d think we would’a all
moved far away by now
Proud as a catfish
scrapin’ up bottom
we hold our ground
‘cause it’s a livin’ anyhow

Hold on, hold on, hold on
to that fine country mud

Papa played around
but he made a fatal slip
and the Mississippi drank him down
No one was surprised
That crafty S.O.B.
was drinkin’ til the day he died
But Mama loved that man
How can she trust her god again
after He made a mess of life and land
Heaven only knows
she’d like to leave but don’t know how
to wash away forty years of sweat from the plow

Born among the river people
You’d think we would’a all
moved far away by now
Proud as a catfish
scrapin’ up bottom
we hold our ground
‘cause it’s a livin’ anyhow

Hold on, hold on, hold on
to that fine country mud

Now, this land’s got its charm
or I wouldn’t’ve raised a hand
to mind the boys and man this farm
So when my brother Paul says,
“Now what’re we gonna grow?”
I say, “Puddles big and brothers tall”
And Mama Washington
watches me from her rocking chair
fixin’ the floorboards, warpin’ everywhere
I know I’ll never leave this town
Farmers always settle down
to the bottom of their American ground

Born among the river people
You’d think we would’a all
moved far away by now
Proud as a catfish
scrapin’ up bottom
we hold our ground
‘cause it’s a livin’ anyhow

Hold on, hold on, hold on
to that fine country mud

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