[intro] [Verse 1] Fresh oak planks and a coat of shinny bright white, Launched from the docks in the cool morning light. With a tall smokestack and a wheel spinning grand, They christened her name: the Bailey Ann. She took to the brown water, deep and so wide, With the heart of an empire churning inside. Past weeping willows and limestone bluffs, Breathing out prayers in charcoal puffs. [Chorus] Oh, roll, Baily Ann, let the muddy water flow, From the high Minnesota down to New Orleans below. Through the bends and the bayous, the heat and the frost, On the Old Mississippi, where the miles get lost. [Verse 2] In the high golden summers, she carried her prize, With laughter and music under starlit skies. Gamblers in linen and ladies in lace, Dancing the waltz in her warm embrace. The call of the calliope, loud and so clear, Brought the townfolk a-running from far and from near. Crates of sweet cotton and many barrels of rye, Stacked up on her deck as the world floated by. [Chorus] So roll, Bailey Ann, let the muddy water flow, From the high Minnesota down to New Orleans below. Through the bends and the bayous, the heat and the frost, On the Old Mississippi, where the miles get lost. [Verse 3] But the river’s a master, that no man can tame, And the dog days of August will play a cruel game. The Big Muddy shrank till her ribs started showing, And the sandbars were waiting where the currents were going. Scraping the bottom on a treacherous shoal, The Bailey Ann groaned to the depths of her soul. Stranded for weeks in the stifling heat, Waiting for rain to put wealth on her feet. [Verse 4] Then the spring thaws came down with a thundering roar, And the river rose up, spilling over the shore. No banks to guide her, just a swirling brown sea, Uprooted oak trees rushing angry and free. The Captain held tight to the wooden pilot wheel, As the ghost of the currents fought the weight of her keel. One wrong turn in that blind, rushing foam, And the Bailey Ann would never make it back home. [Bridge] She survived every eddy, she outran the dark, Left a century of foam and a brilliant white spark. But time is a river that carries us all, And even the grandest of vessels must fall. [Verse 5] Now she sits by the bank where the cattails grow tall, No steam in her boiler, no passengers to call. The paint is all peeled and the paddlewheel’s still, But she drifts in her dreams at the river’s own will. If you listen close when the southern wind sighs, You can still hear her whistle cut through the gray skies. [Outro] Roll on, Big Muddy... The Bailey Ann is resting now. Just a ghost on the water... With the river mud kissing her sadly.
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