There's a house on a hill by a worn down weathered old mill.
In the valley below where the river winds, there's no such thing as bad times.
And a soft southern flame, oh, Cotton Jenny's her name.
She wakes me up when the sun goes down and the wheels of love go round,
wheels of love go round, love go round, wheels of love go round, a joyful sound.
I ain't got a penny for Cotton Jenny to spend but then the wheels go round.

When the new day begins, I go down to the cotton gin
and I make my time worth while to them then I climb back up again.
And she waits by the door, oh, Cotton Jenny I'm sore
and she rubs my feet while the sun goes down and the wheels of love go round.
Wheels of love go round, love go round, wheels of love go round, a joyful sound.
I ain't got a penny for Cotton Jenny to spend but then the wheels go round.

In the hot, sickly South when they say, “well, shut my mouth!”
I can never be free from the cotton grind, but I know I got what's mine
in a soft southern flame, oh, Cotton Jenny's her name.
She wakes me up when the sun goes down and the wheels of love go round.
Wheels of love go round, love go round, wheels of love go round, a joyful sound.
I ain't got a penny for Cotton Jenny to spend but then the wheels go round.
Wheels go round, mmmmm.