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Now, I'm just a simple guy |
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But there's one thing sure as shootin' |
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I hate those folks that think that they're |
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So doggone high fa lutin |
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I'd be the same in |
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Hollywood |
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Or right in my own kitchen |
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I believe in fussin' when you're mad |
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And scratchin' when you're itchin'. |
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CHORUS I'm a plain, old country boy |
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A corn-bread lovin' country boy |
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I raise cain on |
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Saturday But |
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I go to church on |
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Sunday I'm a plain, old country boy |
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A tater eating country boy |
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I'll be lookin' over that old grey mule |
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When the sun comes up on |
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Monday. Where |
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I come from, opportunities, they never were too good |
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We never had much money, but we done the best we could |
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Ma doctored me from youngin-hood, with |
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Epson salts and |
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Iodine Made my diapers out of old feed sacks, my 'spenders out of plow lines. |
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CHORUS Every time the preacher called, |
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Ma always fixed a chicken |
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If I'd reach for a drumstick, |
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I was sure to get a lickin' |
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She always saved two parts for me, |
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But I had to shut my mouth |
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T'was the gizzard and the |
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North end of a chicken flyin' |
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South. CHO |
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RUS |
