(Felice Bryant and Boudleaux Bryant)
Now I'm just a simple guy
But there's one thing sure as shootin'
I hate those folks that think
That they're so dad burned high-falutin'
I'd be the same in Hollywood
Or right in my own kitchen
I beieve in fussin' when you're mad
And scratchin' when you're itchin'.
cho: I'm a plain old country boy
A cornbread lovin' country boy
I raise cain on Saturday
But I go to church on Sunday
I'm a plain old country boy
A 'tater eatin' country boy
I'll be lookin' over that old grey mule
When the sun comes up on Monday.
Where I come from, opportunities
They never were too good
We never had much money
But we done the best we could
Ma doctored me from youngun' hood
With Epson Salts and Iodine
Made my diapers out of old feed sacks
My 'spenders out of plowline.
Every time the preacher called
Ma always fixed a chicken
If I reached for a drumstick
I was sure to get a lickin'
She alway saved two parts for me
But I had to shut my mouth
T'was the gizzard and the north end
Of a chicken flyin' south.
Recorded by Little Jimmy Dickens