Cotton Pickin' Hands

I'm a fair to middling man
 And these are cotton pickin' hands
 I'm a fair to middling man
 And these are cotton pickin' hands
 My woman asks for little
 And nothing she demands
 Except to hold these cotton pickin' hands
 The bloom is white and then it's red
 Then it falls to leave a bowl instead
 The leaves fall and the field is white
 We pick the pods from dawn to night
 I'm a fair to middling man
 And these are cotton pickin' hands
 I'm a fair to middling man
 And these are cotton pickin' hands
 My woman asks for little
 And nothing she demands
 Except to hold these cotton pickin' hands
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 My woman cooks and sweeps the yard
 And that old rug board is rough and hard
 Her face is pretty though it's tanned
 And I love those cotton pickin' hands
 I'm a fair to middling man
 And these are cotton pickin' hands
 I'm a fair to middling man
 And these are cotton pickin' hands
 My woman asks for little
 And nothing she demands
 Except to hold these cotton pickin' hands
 I'm a fair to middling man
 And these are cotton pickin' hands
 I'm a fair to middling man
 And these are cotton pickin' hands