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But I′m just an old man now covered with scars
Most of 'em I got fightin′ in them redneck bars
And a bunch of new tattoos that Squench put on me
While he covered up the ones I'd gotten years ago
Back in prison, when I was just Dave Coe
And I wasn't famous then, and I wasn′t free
Well, I grew up in a three-room, run down shack
At the foot of the mountain, by the railroad track
Where decent folks don′t go when the sun goes down
My daddy worked the cold mines and he worked on cars
Momma go to church, and daddy go to bars
Well, most of folks just called it the, "Hillbilly part of town"
We had a '55 Chevy when I was 15, I painted it red, but I was still green
Shit, I couldn′t even afford to buy it gas
I had a 410 rifle and a Bowie knife too
A Red Man tobacco that I liked to chew
And we'd count the cars when the trains went past
And if that ain′t country, I'll kiss your ass
If that ain′t country, it'll hair lip the pope
If that ain't country, it′s a damn good joke
I′ve been on the Grand Ole Opry, I know Johnny Cash
And if he ain't country, what? (I′ll kiss your ass)
Now, one of my sisters was a lady of the night
And then one day she saw the light
And now she don't do those things that she used to do
She never made the funeral when daddy died
I said I′d forgive her, but I guess I lied
There's just no way to hide the way I feel
Now, me and my brothers took our sister Diane
Down to the funeral home to see the old man
Jimmy was the oldest and Diane was the youngest one
Now Ray was in the middle and then there was me
And I′m the one at 23, who grew up to be that yankee's rebel son
Now times are changing, I've heard the folks say
And it′s been ten years since my daddy passed away
But I can still picture him in his overalls
Covered with grease from his head to his feet
Cussin′ the sweat, and the Texas heat, and mosquitoes
Standin' by the house where he made his deals
And around the porch, there was a bunch of old wheels
And some used Harley Davidson parts daddy sold for cash
There was 50 holes in an old tin roof
Me and my family was livin′ proof
A perfect example of poor white trash
And if that ain't country, I′ll kiss your ass
If that ain't country, it′ll hair lip the pope
If that ain't country, it's a damn good joke
I′ve been on the Grand Ole Opry and I know Johnny Cash
And if he ain′t country, what? (I'll kiss your ass)
And if that ain′t country, what? (I'll kiss your ass)
And if that ain′t country, what? (I'll kiss your ass)
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Writer(s): R. Anthony Smith, Jeffrey Steele Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com