Georgia Stockade Blues

Georgia Stockade Blues - Tom Delaney

Days are dreary night scream alarms

Down in Georgia on a stockade farm

Doing time for a crime

They found me guilty without one dime

Guards all around with their guns

Shoot me down like a

Rabbit if I start to run

Five long years been out there suffering

Working from sun to sun

Evening falls morning comes

My daily task is never done

Tipping boxes Lord

Pour all the turpentine balm

At night can't raise my arm

Both legs shackled to a ball and chain

Pleading for mercy but it's alway in vain

Ankles all swollen can't wear no shoes

I've got the meanest kind

Of Georgia Stockade Blues

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Both legs shackled to a ball and chain

Pleading for mercy but it's all in vain

Ankles all swollen can't wear no shoes

I've got the meanest

Kind of Georgia Stockade Blues