I was raised in Missouri along the Mississippi listening to the music of the John
Hartford Band. And I learned to play the fiddle standing in its waters, I wanted to
play like that Mississippi Man.
Had to move to Chicago so I could make a living. Took a job in the steel mill trying to
be a man. But I missed my home and the wild Mississippi. Need to wash in its
waters feel the mud on my hands.
When I got lonely, I’d pick up my fiddle. Play a little Hartford, try to sing along. There’s one sure way to get me home again. Listening to the fiddle of that Mississippi man.
Play it like John (Fiddle Break; I don’t have one on the recording)
Now I sit in my rocker think back on ole Missouri. Both me and the river have seen wear. And I can’t play my fiddle but I listen to his records, tap my feet to rhythm….. smell that river in the air.
So when I get lonely, I listen to his fiddle. Play a little Hartford, try to sing along.
There’s one sure way to get me home again. Listening to the fiddle of that Mississippi man.
‘Cause no one plays the fiddle like that Mississippi man