By Parson Thru
We passed further west, riding Delta south on 61
The bridge they put you on in ’67 wasn’t it, you said, only something like you had in mind
And clear a hundred miles from where the flowers grew
Who knows which muddy waters, Tallahatchie or Yazoo, might have carried them away?
They say someone burned it down in ‘72: vandals, so the story goes
Seems the truth’s around the table anyhow