About three miles from the Batelle yard From the reverse curve on down Not far south of the town depot Sullivan's shack was found Back on the higher ground. You could see him every day Just walking down the line With his old brown sack across his back And his long hair down behind Speaking his worried mind. It's a long way to the delta From the North Georgia hills A tote sack full of ginseng Won't pay no travelling bills Now, I'm too old to ride the rails Or thumb the road alone So I guess I'll never make it back to home My muddy water Mississippi delta home. The winters here, they get too cold The damp it makes me ill Can't dig no roots in the mountain side With the ground froze hard and still Gotta stay at the foot of the hill. But next summer, things turn right The companies will pay high I'll make enough money to pay my bills Bid these mountains goodbye Then he said with a sigh: {Chorus}