Song Title: I'm Country
Author: Chris LeDoux
Album: Cowboy (Capital Records 2000)
I'M COUNTRY - written and performed by Chris LeDoux
Intro:
C F
Well, there's a little word that fits me to a tea.
G C
I don't know how you spell it, but it's “country.”
C F
Well, I laugh when I'm happy and I cry when I'm blue,
G C
cuss when I'm mad like I'm supposed to do.
C F
On a Saturday night I'll have a drink or two
G C
and howl at the moon I'm country.
C F
Well, I chew tobacco and I spit it on the ground.
G C
I talk to the cows when no one ain't around.
C F
Trapped on the mountain when the snow is falling down,
G C
yes sir, boys, I'm country.
CHORUS:
F
I'm as country as a bronc on the western plain,
C
just as wild and twice as hard to tame.
F
As high on living as the noonday sun.
C G C
Well, I'll be country ‘til the day I'm done.
C F
City folks think I'm crude I guess.
G C
You can tell I'm a hick by the way that I dress.
C F
But that don't matter, I'm happy as can be
G C
and proud as heck that I'm country.
C F
There's nothing wrong with city, if you like it that's fine
G C
driving them freeways and race against time,
C F
But I'll bet you folks in the back of your minds
G C
kinda wished you was country, don't ya?
CHORUS
*spoken over C*
C'mon, Boys, keep singing those country songs. Who knows? Maybe we'll convert all these
city folks into country folks and they'll all move out to the country. Then the country
won't be country anymore.
Hold on.
Wait a minute.
WOAH!!
I just gave you one side of the whole picture, because...
C F
Country is heat and dust and snow,
G C
where the winters get down to forty below
C F
And the work is hard and the pay's sure low
G C
and it ain't all roses being country.
*spoken over C*
Hang in there, Folks. Don't do nothing foolish now. You got yourself a nice high paying
job, air conditioned offices, got a movie theater right down the street, [RETURN TO VERSE
RHYTHM] an great places to eat. You got yourself a city park, too. Now that's country!
And there you don't have to worry about no rattlesnake biting ya on the leg or no grizzly
bear comin down, tearin' yer head off ‘er nothin' like that.
Hey, Mr. Program Director, or should I say Music Conglomerated Homogenated Syndicated
Network, if you get a copy of this thing you can just throw it in the garbage can and forget
I ever sent the dang thing to ya.
Thank you very much.
And they will !
