Lyrics Papa, Won't You Let Me Go To Town With You - Bobbie Gentry

Papa, Won't You Let Me Go To Town With You

Just outside of delta country
Where the bitter weeds growin wild
Born seven miles outside of Woodland
Was a Chicasaw County child
An Poppa done brung us some peppermint candy
Momma fixed a custard pie
Bought her a store-bought doll from Jackson
She’s 'a apple of everyone’s eye
Chickasaw County child
Is gonna be ok Chickasaw County child
You gonna be somebody someday
Sporting her checkered feedsack dress
A ruby ring from a Cracker Jack box
Shufflin on down that gravel road
Barefooted and chunking rocks
Momma said looky here dumplin
You’ll go far, cause you got style
Ain’t nothing in this world gonna hold her back
Her pretty Chickasaw County child
Chickasaw County child
Is gonna be ok Chickasaw County child
You gonna be somebody someday
Leavin the county a week from Monday
Ain’t got much to pack
A tin can of black strap sogga molasses
And her momma’s almanac
Momma done made her a brand new dress
Made of blue polka dotted silk
Two postcards from California
And a gallon of buttermilk
Chickasaw County child
Is gonna be ok Chickasaw County child
You gonna be somebody someday
You gonna be somebody someday
You gonna be somebody someday