| There is a place where the river bends |
| It’s arms around mud island |
| When I was young I touched the joy |
| Of a man who kept me from crying |
| At his knee I came to sea |
| Regions far beyond me |
| All the shiny cars and the river bars |
| And foxy Memphies ladies died |
| Now you can ask all the Delta River men |
| But they don’t long remember |
| Who he was or where he went to |
| Early last September |
| I for one I can still recall |
| The wonder of that summer oh yea |
| Beauty was the gold that he showed me |
| Precious was the words that he told me |
| On the banks of the mighty Mississippi |
| On a place they called Mud Island |
| Now the winters came and the ice and and the rain |
| Made a killer of that of that river mighty |
| Good men died and hard men cried |
| Good just like little bitty babies |
| Many nights I laid awake |
| Praying that he’d come and find me |
| But he never came that dirty river men |
| Living way deep inside me |
| There is a place where the river bends |
| It’s arms around mud island |
| On the banks of the mighty Mississippi |
| On a place they called Mud Island |
| Mud Island mud mud mud mud Mud Island |
| Mud mud mud mud Mud Island |
| Mud mud mud mud Mud Island |
| Mud mud mud mud Mud Island |