ballad of a southern man

my first rifle was a.243

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

sneaking pulls of shine from a mason jar

used to go fishing out pickle creek dam

but i guess that's something you don't understand. 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 something you don't understand. 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 something you don't understand. pledge my allegiance the original way

say merry christmas" not "happy holidays"