Cotton Fields Touched by the Innocent

Planting with worn hands, blistered, raw, bleed in the heat

Picking, baskets filled with richness from the fields stacked beneath their feet

Sweat beads lay across their dark skin now trickles from their brow down the neck

Braided waves of rope tied around the waste attached to another body so they can't run away

A whip slashed waits for the attack in case they miss a bundle of cotton to check

Slaves they may be to the landlord and his mansion, but the true Lord protects them loves them created them free

Water is coming, but the thirst can't wait for some, weak, frail, fainted by the pale tipped over it be

These cotton fields I stand in weary souls made white man richer and the black man forgotten

May the cotton fields bring peace to the country, the freedom in the breeze, glory in the sun

While the clothes on our back, and the blanket warm in the night, say amen to our people

God created them to be free from all heartache, as the cotton fields sing they call your name

The land is the richest touched by innocent hands as the southern charm was no fool but full of shame