Trad arr (Chad Mitchell Trio)

Ain't no more cane on this Brazos, my boy
Oh, oh, oh
We done ground it all into molasses,
Oh, oh, oh

When I come down here, had a number for my name
Oh, oh, oh
Well, they chained us together and we started cuttin' cane
Oh, oh, oh

I wish you was here in nineteen and ten
Oh, oh, oh
Well, they was drivin' the women just like they was men
Oh, oh, oh

I wish you was here when the storm winds came
Oh, oh, oh
Left a man lyin' dead and we cut him off the chain
Oh, oh, oh

If I had a sentence like ninety-nine and nine
Oh, oh, oh
There ain't no dogs on this Brazos could keep me on that line
Oh, oh, oh

Well, Alberta why don't you let your hair hang down
Oh, oh, oh
Let it hang right down till it touches the ground
Oh, oh, oh

Why don't you go down old Hannah, don't you rise up no more
Oh, oh, oh
Well, they work me so hard that I can't work no more
Oh, oh, oh

Ain't no more cane on this Brazos, my boy
Oh, oh, oh
We done ground it all into molasses
Oh, oh, oh