Mississippi Is…
A Walker hound treeing in the river bottom,
His long bawl bark telling me he’s got ‘em.
Sitting in a tree stand up in a tall White Oak,
That whitetail buck deer tipping through the slough so slow.
The pop of a jug when that blue cat takes the bait,
Being out on the Tenn-Tom River at night real late.
A plump fox squirrel sitting high up in a Pine,
Flicking her tail as the cur dog tries to find her before she can hide.
Ole Tom turkey gobbling across the creek,
Hiding in a brush top hoping he struts by me.
Throwing a frog across the lily pads and grass,
Setting the hook on a five-pound bass.
Being in the woods as the morning sun shines bright,
Or on the riverbanks, the moon my only light.
Way out yonder with all of God’s Dixieland delights.
