A Sleepy Delta Day

It was a sleepy delta day and I was out in the field, picking cotton, down in the lower forty. Momma came to me with the news.

My man killed himself.

Billy Joe was my life. Billy Joe was my everything.

He was a long way from home when he died. He should have been here with me, not out chasing money.

It was me that drove him off. I was always going on about how I wanted this and that. Now all I want is my Billy Joe.

It don’t seem right that I’m here and he ain’t.

I think I’ll go to him.

The mountain ain’t that high, I can be on top by sunset.

I said good-bye to momma and started out.

I’m wearin’ the dress that Billy Joe bought me last spring. He always said how pretty I looked in it.

As I walk up the mountain, I smile. I’m thinking on my Billy Joe.

The sun is just going down over the mountain. The sky is orange and pink.

I’m now up on the ridge.

Billy Joe always said I didn’t have a lick of sense. I reckon I don’t cause I wouldn’t be doin’ what I’m doin’.

I loved you so much Billy Joe, and I am so sorry for my ways.

It’s a long way down, but when I get there, I’ll be with my Billy Joe.

It’s a sleepy dusty delta day.