When it’s peach pickin’ time in Georgia, Apple pickin’ time in Tennessee, Cotton pickin’ time in Missisipi, everybody picks on me. When it’s round up time in Texas, the cowboys make whoopee and way down in old Alabamy, it’s gal Pickin’ time to me. 
There’s the blue grass in old Kentucky, Virginia’s where they do swing; Carolina, now I’m coming to you, coming just to spend the spring; Arkansas, I hear you calling, I know I’ll see you soon; there is where we will do some pickin’ beneath that old Ozark moon. 
I’ve about done my daydreams I hope they don’t get me; I’ve got a little girl a-waitin’ Down in Tennessee. I know I’m goin’ to see her I hope it won’t be long--That’s where I’ll build a little cabin And call it my mountain home." 
When the pickaninnies pick the cotton, that’s the time I’ll pick the weddin’ ring, We’ll go to town to pick a little gown for a wedding in the spring; Hope the preacher knows his business, I know he can’t fool me; When it’s peach pickin’ time in Georgia, it’s gal pickin time to me. 
file from: www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
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