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If someone of y'all never been down south too much |
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I'm gonna tell you a little bit about this |
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So that you'll understand what I'm talking about |
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Down there we have a plant that grows |
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Out in the woods and the fields |
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Looks somethin' like a turnip green |
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Everybody calls it Polk salad, Polk salad |
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Used to know a girl that lived down there |
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And she'd go out in the evenings and pick mess of it |
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Carry it home and cook it for supper |
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'Cause that's about all they had to eat |
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But they did all right |
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Down in Louisiana where the alligators grow so mean |
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There lived a girl that I swear to the world |
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Made the alligators look tame |
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Polk salad Annie, Polk salad Annie |
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Everybody said it was a shame |
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'Cause her mama was working on chain gang |
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(A mean, vicious woman) |
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Everyday 'fore supper time she'd go down by the truck patch |
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And pick her a mess o' Polk salad and carry it home in a tote sack |
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Polk salad Annie, 'gators got you granny |
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Everybody said it was a shame |
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'Cause her mama was a workin' on the chain gang |
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(A wretched spiteful, straight-razor totin' woman) |
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(Lord have mercy, pick mess of it) |
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Her daddy was lazy and no count, claimed he had a bad back |
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All her brothers were fit for was stealin' watermelons out of my truck patch |
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Polk salad Annie, the 'gators got you granny |
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Everybody said it was a shame |
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'Cause her mama was a working on the chain-gang |
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(Sock a little Polk salad to me) |
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(You know I need a mess of it) |
