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Molasses Creek
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Mississippi Sawyer
On the western side of some backwater town
Some of us boys would sit around
And listen to old Joe saw away
On a dusty ole fiddle he loved to play
Stories he told with every song
Bout river life, 'fore the crowds came along
Pining away for the days of yore
When he could make a livin' up and down the shore
Days were hard, road got rough
Turned in his papers, and he'd had enough
But late at night all alone
Those old times shone – through the Mississippi Sawyer
When the Mississippi Sawyer first poled aground
The only work that could be found
Was clearing land near the Windsor place
He borrowed mules he set the pace
Worked pretty hard for twenty some days
Burnin brush and cutting hay
Ole Smith Daniels had him paid
And he loaded his pack and was on his way
Rains were scarce, river dry
Not enough water yet to float him high
So he pitched his camp and stayed a while
Drifter style – as the Mississippi Sawyer
Civil war brought harder times
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The blue and grey both worked the line
Of that magic road that ever flowed
From the frozen north to the gulf below
Old Joe managed to squeeze on through
With twinkle in his eye, and a 'How do you do?'
Offering a free dance or two
For lonesome greys and homesick blues
Dangerous times in '63
Port Gibson fell and he thought to flee
But general Grant called for a ball
. . . .Joe answered the call – as the Mississippi Sawyer
Well the taller we grew, the older Joe got
Rheumatism struck (came), fiddlin' stopped
Sadly he tucked ole Bess away
Til he called me down that fresh spring day
'Son, though my playing days are through,
I've one more gift to pass on to you
. . . looks like you're ready to fly
And a boy with a fiddle will always get by
When times are hard and the road gets tough
And you can't scrape together enough
Line your pockets with gold
From the tunes of old – with the Mississippi Sawyer.
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