I was talking to an oak tree
When the cypress butted in.
Out of car parts a raven
Made a nest inside my skin.
To understand me better
You all ought to follow me home.
I make a wish, I clean the fish, Lord!
That's why they call me Wash Jones.
I can scream like the cicada,
Gin the seed right out of the boll,
Ride the train to Memphis
Where there's cotton to be sold.
To understand me better
You all ought to follow me home.
I make a wish, I clean the fish, Lord!
I feel like driving but my car won't run.
I feel like plowing but my mules won't come.
I was lost down in the bottom,
I was cutting through the cane,
tied my team up
to a rusty trace chain.
To understand me better
You all ought to follow me home.
I make a wish, I clean the fish, Lord!
That's why they call me Wash Jones.
That's why they call me Wash Jones.
That's why they call me Wash Jones
That's why they call me Wash Jones.
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