Well the girls all dance, with the boys from the city
But they don't care to dance with me
Well it ain't my fault, that the fields are muddy
And the red clay stains my feet
It's under my nails, and it's under my collar,
And it shows on my Sunday clothes
Though I do my best with soap and water,
That dammed old dirt won't go
But when I pass through the pearly gates
Will my gown be gold instead
Or just a red clay robe with red clay wings
And a red clay halo for my head
Inst. = verse
It's mud in the spring and it's dust in the summer
When it rolls in crimson tide
Til the trees and leaves and the cows are the colour
Of the dirt on the mountain side
Chorus
Now Jordan's banks are red and muddy,
And the rollin water is wide
But I got no boat,
So I'll be good and muddy
When I get to the other side
Chorus