Ballad Of A Southern Man

My first rifle was a .243

That Papa gave Daddy and Daddy gave to me

And they taught me how to shoot with a steady hand

I guess that's something you don't understand

Now I grew up on a prison farm

Sneakin' pulls of shine from a Mason jar

Used to go fishin' out Pickle Creek Dam

But I guess that's somethin' you don't understand

And grandma's in the kitchen

Papa's done passed on

We'd sit out on the front porch

Just a pickin' on a song

And there's blood on the table

'Cause we work for what we have

And I was raised in this land

I guess that's somethin' you don't understand

And I still fly that Southern flag

Whistlin' Dixie loud enough to brag

And I know all the words to 'Simple Man'

I guess that's somethin' you don't understand

Pledge my allegiance the original way

Say "Merry Christmas" not "happy holidays"

I can't change my ways, I know who I am

I guess that's somethin' you don't understand

Grandma's in the kitchen

Papa's done passed on

We'd sit out on the front porch

Just pickin' on a song

And there's blood on the table

'Cause we work for what we have

And I was raised in this land

I guess that's somethin' you don't understand

Grind us up in a big machine

Feed us all on the same beliefs

Holy dollar and a credit card

But we got a way of doin' things

And no banker's gonna steal from me

They wanna tear it all apart

Grandma's in the kitchen

Papa's done passed on

We'd sit out on the front porch

Just pickin' on a song

And there's a Bible on the table

'Cause He bled for what we have

And that's the ballad of a Southern man

I guess that's somethin' you don't understand

My first rifle was a .243

That Papa gave Daddy and Daddy gave to me