Ain't no food upon the table
And no pork up in the pan
But you better not complain, boy
You get in trouble with the man

CHORUS
Let the midnight special ~ Shine a light on me

Yonder come miss Rosie | How in the world did you know
By the way she wears her apron | And the clothes she wore
Umbrella on her shoulder | Piece of paper in her hand
She come to see the governor | She want to free her man

If you're ever in Houston, | Well you'd better do the right
You'd better not gamble | And you better not fight (at all)
Or the sheriff will grab you | And the boys will bring you down
The next thing you know boy, | Well you're prison bound

When I was a little bitty baby | My mama would rock me in the cradle,
In them old cotton fields back home;

It was down in Louisiana, | Just about a mile from Texarkana,
In them old cotton fields back home.

Oh, when them cotton bolls get rotten | You can't pick very much cotton,
In them old cotton fields back home.