Hillbilly Heaven

I don’t wanna die soon but When I die I don’t want to go to hell

I want to be greeted at heavens gates with a rebel yell

I don’t need streets paved with gold or St Peter at the pearly gates

Let Dale Earnhardt pick me up and forget how to use his brakes

Let the angels float around on biscuit clouds and play banjos

Forget tunics and robes, I want flannel and jeans for clothes

Let Johnny cash songs wake me up when I take a nap

And have my granny send me for a switch when I have a mishap

Set up a shooting range for me to play with all the guns

Have fried chicken and pulled pork on homemade buns

If Jesus wants to talk make sure you need four wheel drive to get there

And it would be pretty cool if he didn’t mind when I swear

I don’t know how heaven will be but I pray it was designed by a hillbilly

Let there be southern bells, country music, horseshoes and I’ll be happy

If it can’t be all for hillbillies i hope Heaven has a Dixie section

Where I can lounge under a shady tree and drink sweet tea in Heaven

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Cowboys Never Cease to Exist

There may no longer be a Wild West 

There aren’t any dirt floor saloons 

No towns full of men in vests

No train robbers sleeping under the moon
No longer are arguments settled by duels

No one rides a horse or buggy 

No longer are tasks done with simple tools

This era has simply become a memory
One thing that has survived are cowboys

Men who like to live life their way 

Men who still love life’s simple joys 

Men with no regrets at the end of the day
Cowboys stand up for their morals

They fight when it’s necessary 

They respect elders and girls

having a good meal makes them happy  
Cowboys are a little headstrong 

They Make quick decisions

they don’t enjoy talking for too long 

And they rarely change their opinions 
Some of you may be a cowboy 

Or you may want to be it  

Just remember that pistol isn’t a toy 

And never cross from cowboy to bandit 
Because if you do 

There will always be a cowboy after you 

Blue Collar Boy

I’m just a hillbilly with a dollar 
I work hard for my money 

I even own a shirt with a collar 

And I wear that shirt to church on Sunday 
I don’t think I’m better than my kin 

That don’t have as much cash 

Their work gets them dirt on their skin

Whether its mud, grease or trash 
We still get together on the holidays

We eat turkey in my double wide

We aren’t savages we use TV trays 

And my cousins have to smoke outside 
Some people call me a redneck

Some say I’m very country 

Anyone who doesn’t like It can go to heck 

Because I’m happy just being me 

Culture in the Country 

I am a simple southern gentleman

I speak with an accent unique to my region

These two facts do not prevent me from having culture 

A life stereotyped by others of the south would be torture
To the disbelief of most I am not infatuated with my cousin

My yard is not littered with an engine or a rusty Nissan 

I do not decorate my home with commemorative nascar plates

People of different races are not the objects of my hate 
I enjoy reading a well written novel on a sunny day

I become excited over an upcoming theatrical play 

I have visited a museum, nature reserve, and a historical site 

And nothing can compare to a picnic under a starry night 
Please do not judge me unfairly based on my birthplace 

I have not allowed myself to be defined without an individualistic trace

I am my own man and proud of that fact 

If you cannot handle that, then enjoy squabbling to my back