King Cotton

KING COTTON

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

Youre pickin cotton until you drop
Youre never getting away
Youd rather be in a coffee shop
With fish and chips on your tray.

Youre bendin down
Your back is broke
Your fingers ache and
Your feet are smokin

Your head is numb
Your legs are gone
And youve got nothing to say

Youre pickin cotton the whole day through
Until the evening is done
Youll 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 cant complain, your backs in pain
And you get nothin for pay

Cause that sonavabitch will never let you
Take a break at all,
Youll 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 its
Later in the Fall

Im tellin you what my life is like
So listen up my friend
My mother is holding up all right
Although her back dont 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

Youll never guess how much I really love this job,
So, Im 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,

Youll never know how much Id love to stab that slob
And spread his guts to rot til dawning

DOGFIGHT

Youve got to
Bend down, open a boll
Pick out the fluff, bag it!

If your bags 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)

Youll never know how much I love plantation life,
Full of sweet perfume and romance;
Youll never know how much Id like to use Bobs knife
To separate him from his gonads.