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• Artiste: William Elliott Whitmore
• Titre: Lee County Flood
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The summer wind is blowing westward over the field of fresh moved hay Let's go up to the barn loft lay back and watch the sparrows play I can see the evening sky from the holes rusted in the tin Let's close our eyes and fall asleep and listen to the storm roll in It sounded like a thousand horses' hooves The sound of the pourin' rain on the old tin roof The clouds were as black as the smoke form the stack of an old coal-burning train Lay back and listen to the sound of the pourin' rain It ain't rained in weeks and now it just won't stop All the rivers and the creeks are getting fuller with every drop If the levee holds it's ground and keeps that water back the Mississippi won't reach my little tar-paper shack Well now the sun shines on the roof and the moonshine is in the cellar and what a happy feller I am to finally see the sun now that the rain is done 'cause I've had about all I can stand I can't tell where my pond begins an where my cornfield ends The cattle done floated away 'cause the water's up over the fence