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Elvis Presley – “Polk Salad Annie”

Introduction

Get ready to sway to the rhythm of the South! Elvis Presley’s “Polk Salad Annie” is a gem that showcases the King’s versatility and his ability to infuse soulful melodies with a touch of Southern charm. Released in 1970, this track is a testament to Presley’s prowess in capturing the essence of diverse musical genres.

Did You Know?

“Polk Salad Annie” tells the tale of a girl named Annie who hails from the Southern United States. The song, written by Tony Joe White, seamlessly blends rock, soul, and blues, creating a distinctive sound that resonates with listeners. Elvis Presley’s rendition of this track became a chart success, cementing its place as a beloved classic. Fun fact: The unique title refers to a traditional Southern dish made from pokeweed.

Video

Lyrics: Polk Salad Annie

Some of you all never been down South too much…
I’ gonna tell you a little story, so you’ll understand where I’m talking about
Down there we have a plant that grows out in the woods and the fields,
and it looks something like a turnip green.
Everybody calls it Polk salad. Now that’s Polk salad.
Used to know a girl that lived down there and
she’d go out in the evenings to pick a mess of it…
Carry it home and cook it for supper, ’cause that’s about all they had to eat,
But they did all right.Down in Louisiana
Where the alligators grow so mean
Lived a girl that I swear to the world
Made the alligators look tamePolk salad Annie
‘Gators got your granny
Everybody said it was a shame
For the mama was working on the chain-gang
What a mean, vicious womanEveryday before suppertime
She’d go down by the truck patch
And pick her a mess of Polk salad
And carry it home in a tote sack

Polk salad Annie
‘Gators got you granny
Everybody said it was a shame
‘Cause the mama was working on the chain-gang
Whoo, how wretched, dispiteful, straight-razor totin’ woman,
Lord have mercy.

Sock a little Polk salad to him
Yeah, you know what, yeah, yeah

But daddy was a lazy and a no-count
Claimed he had a bad back
All her brothers were fit for
Was stealing watermelons out of my truck

For once Polk salad Annie
‘Gators got your granny
Everybody said it was a shame
For the mama was working on the chain-gang

Sock a little Polk salad to him
You know what meets a meal mention
You sock a little
Hey, hey, hey, yeah, yeah
Chic a bon, chic a bon, chic a bon bon bon bon
Chic a bon, chic a bon, chic a bon bon bon bon
Sock a little Polk salad to him
You know what meets a meal mention
Sock a little Polk salad to him
You know what meets a meal mention
Chinc, chinc, chinc, chin, ling, ling ling

 

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STONEWALL JACKSON ASKED TOM T. HALL TO WRITE A PRISON SONG, BUT HALL COULD NOT DO IT BECAUSE HE HAD NEVER ACTUALLY BEEN TO PRISON. Tom T. Hall spent his early career turning out the kind of polished, commercial hits that Nashville publishers lived for. He could write what people expected, but he always felt like a fraud. When Stonewall Jackson approached him requesting a prison song—hoping to capture that rugged, authentic aura Johnny Cash was building—Hall hit a wall. He stared at his notepad, realized he had no genuine experience with a cell, and flatly refused to fake it. He was a songwriter, not an actor, and his pride kept him from writing about a world he didn’t know. His wife, Dixie, cut through the tension with a simple reminder: he had indeed spent a week in a county jail in Kentucky after a traffic violation. That memory was not cinematic or heroic. It was just mundane, quiet, and uncomfortable. It involved bad food, the sound of iron bars, and the slow, agonizing crawl of days where the jailer’s wife suddenly started looking like the most beautiful woman on earth. He stopped writing songs that invented generic situations and started reporting the people and places he actually encountered. The result was his first number one hit, written like a man telling a story across a kitchen table. Stonewall Jackson never got his song, but Hall finally found his own voice in the silence of that jail cell.

Elvis Presley did not go to Hollywood simply because he wanted to be a movie star. He wanted to act. He admired performers such as James Dean and Marlon Brando and hoped that, given the right material, audiences might eventually see him as more than the singer whose voice and movements had turned popular culture upside down.

Long before the private planes, expensive cars and Graceland, Elvis Presley knew what it meant to live with very little. His childhood in Tupelo stayed with him even after fame transformed his life. Money changed what Elvis could afford, but it never completely erased the memory of struggling.

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