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The Frozen Four-Hundred-Pound Fair-to-Middlin' Cotton Picker - Johnny Cash (约翰尼·卡什)
I left the field one evening
My fingers so cold and sore
From fair to middlin' cotton
Three hundred 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 four hundred
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 four hundred
So he'd picked more than he'd bet
Of fair to middlin' cotton but Jim ain't thawed out yet
