THE FROZEN 400 POUND FAIR TO MIDDLIN' COTTON PICKER


I left the field one evening my fingers so cold and sore
from fair to middlin' cotton • 300 pounds or more
Jim McCann was still pickin' straddle in the row 
the sun began to sinkin' and the wind began to blow

he was bound to get 400 a draggin' a twelve foot sack
I hollered out "Jim come weight it!" but I only saw his back
so I went on home to supper and I gathered around my kin
I was thinkin' of Jim out there pickin' with winter settin' in 

next morning the air was freezin' • the snow was nine feet deep
I jerked on my long red handles and I left my kids asleep 
I got myself a shovel and went to where I seen Jim go 
and commenced to a diggin' for him at the other end of his row

I found his body frozen and I took him in to thaw 
I dragged in his sack and I weighed it and I added Jim's marks that I saw 
the total was over 400 so he'd picked more than he'd bet
of fair to middlin' cotton • but Jim ain't thawed out yet

                                            johnny cash